


One Day at a Time

by evlytheevilqueen



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M, also it's not between Magnus and Alec, but just to be on the safe side, just so you know, more characters will be involved but they're a surprise, no actual rape happens but better safe than sorry, non-con warning only for the first chapter, not sure how graphic the violence will actually be when we get there, this is NOT a CoB rewrite, this is actually very wildly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evlytheevilqueen/pseuds/evlytheevilqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec leads a completely ordinary life - until one fateful night, his best friend Clary drags him into a night club called Pandemonium, unknowingly turning his world upside down. Who is the mysterious cat-eyed stranger? Is it really just Alec's vivid imagination - or is the world not quite what it seems on the surface? What happens when you dig deeper than you probably should?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Clary, are you sure this is a good idea?" Alec fidgeted where he stood, nervously fingering the hem of his frayed sweater.

 

"Oh, come on, Alec, loosen up a little! You only get to graduate high school once, what better time to go out and celebrate!" Clary was bouncing up and down on her feet, either out of actual giddiness or because she was trying to see past the people lined up in front of her. Her enthusiasm lured a fond smile out of Alec, though.

 

"I thought you were supposed to party in college?"

 

"That doesn't mean we can't go out now," Clary said with an almost frighteningly wide smile, playfully slapping Alec's hand away from where he was still toying with the loose threads of his sweater. "Stop doing that. I can't believe you actually showed up like this, didn't I tell you to dress up at least a little?"

 

Alec looked down at himself self-consciously, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at his friend when he was done with his inspection. "What? This outfit is perfectly acceptable."

 

"Let me guess, it counts as dressing up because it's actually still black and not some faded shade of dark gray?" Clary asked, laughter evident in her voice and eyes sparkling with mirth. She bit her lip, trying to keep from outright laughing at her friend.

 

"Yes," Alec said, actually sticking his tongue out at her and playfully pulling at one of her red curls, dimples forming on his cheeks as he grinned down at her.

 

"For someone this tall and reserved you're actually incredibly immature." Clary laughed, batting his hand away from her and pinching his cheek in revenge. It was her secret weapon ever since she'd first seen the old woman at their favorite ice cream parlor do it when they'd been kids. The look of pure shock that had crossed his face was quite possibly the most hilarious thing she'd ever witnessed.

 

"For someone this tiny and artistic you're actually incredibly eager to drag me into a night club," Alec said in his best mocking tone, rubbing his cheek and glaring some more.

 

"Maybe if you'd stop being this grumpy you'd actually have fun and it wouldn't feel so much like I'm dragging you?" Clary said, adapting Alec's tone and linking her arm through his as best as she could with the height difference between them. "Now try to look less like you plan on murdering me for this, we're gonna be in sight of the bouncer when this guy's through. I'd actually like a try at convincing you that this is a good idea. If he even lets us in. Your sweater looks like you pulled it out of a dumpster."

 

"Does not," Alec murmured under his breath as they took a step forward, foreign bodies pushing into them from behind, trying to speed up the process. The feeling wasn't one he enjoyed too much and he wasn't looking forward to the amplified version of it he'd have to deal with on the dance floor.

 

"Does too," Clary murmured back, pulling him closer into her side as she felt him fidgeting even more.

 

Miraculously, the bouncer let them in – maybe he mistook Alec's rather shabby wardrobe for some kind of fashion statement – and they found themselves in the stuffy humidity of Pandemonium. Multicolored lights, changing so quickly Alec felt a bit dizzy just watching, danced over the grinding mass of bodies of all shapes and sizes before them. Alec gulped at the sight.

 

"Do we really have to?" he asked, barely audible over the deafening volume of the bass pulsating through the room, his fingers automatically going back to the threads he'd toyed with earlier as he watched the dancers. Clary grabbed his hand in hers to prevent him from doing even more damage.

 

"Yes. We don't have to stay long if you don't want to but you could at least try to enjoy yourself for a bit, okay?" Her huge green eyes pleaded with him. Alec had never been able to resist anyone's puppy dog eyes and Clary had perfected hers years ago when she'd first started begging her mother for art classes.

 

With a defeated sigh, Alec let himself be pulled onto the dance floor. Sweating bodies brushed against his back and sides as soon as he'd hesitantly started swaying on his feet, his arms pressed stiffly to his sides to avoid further contact. If it weren't for Clary twirling in front of him and seeming to have the time of her life just jumping around and moving to the beat, Alec would have fled to a dark corner the moment someone bumped into him and almost spilled half of their beer down his sleeve.

 

"Alec, this doesn't count as letting go!" Clary yelled over the noise around them, poking him in the side and giving his stiff posture and minimalist movements an accusing look.

 

"I'm just trying not to bump into anyone! Obviously, I'm alone in that!" Alec yelled back, glaring when another careless dancer almost swung her arm into his face. If he hadn't ducked just in time his nose would probably have been broken now.

 

Clary just rolled her eyes at him and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the writhing crowd and toward the bar. As soon as they'd reached the periphery of the dance floor she gripped his elbows, holding him in place as her gaze bored into his.

 

"You stay here, do you hear me? No slinking off into a corner. I'm going to get us drinks and then we'll try again!" Before Alec could protest, she had already disappeared into the stream of people coming and going to and from the bar. Hopefully, she wouldn't try to put to use the awful fake ID she'd gotten just for the occasion.

 

Out of sheer boredom, Alec tried to distract himself by people-watching, as much as he could in the dim lighting and with all the constant movement around him. It was hard to focus on anyone in particular in all that dizzying back and forth, until his eyes fell onto an especially sparkly figure that seemed to draw his gaze like a magnet. Maybe it was the outrageously colored, skintight clothing. Or maybe the glitter sticking to his generously revealed tan skin and multicolored spikes, reflecting the light. Whatever it was, something about this man made it impossible for Alec to look away again once his eyes had locked on him.

 

Alec lost himself a bit in taking in all the obviously well thought-out details of the man's outfit, from the high boots over the huge belt to the numerous gold chains around his neck. When he looked up again to inspect the stranger's face further he was met with a knowing gaze and a lazy smirk that had blood rushing to his cheeks even from across the room. For a second, Alec could have sworn the stranger's eyes flashed just like a cat's but then Clary appeared at his elbow with their drinks – virgin versions, she'd thankfully refrained from testing the credibility of the ID – and he shook his head and accepted his Pina Colada, not looking back at the stranger. It wasn't such a rare occurrence, after all.

 

For someone who prided himself on his rationality and who wasn't in the least artistically gifted in any sense of the word, Alec sure had a vivid imagination. He couldn't count the times he'd passed someone on the street, thinking he'd caught a flash of purple skin or curved horns or fox ears or even the talons of an eagle once, only to turn back around for a second glance to find either nothing or at least nothing unusual.

 

As a kid, he'd loved to play with the 'pixies' in their garden, as he'd called the butterflies - to Clary's great amusement and Alec's even greater embarrassment whenever Maryse told childhood stories about him despite his protests – and he'd always get excited and bounce rather than walk the whole way whenever his mother agreed to take him to Central Park to look for 'fairies'. Surely, what he'd seen in the stranger's eyes had either been one of those occasions, maybe due to a trick of light, or the man was actually wearing contacts. With how much thought seemed to have gone into coordinating his outfit, Alec wouldn't rule the possibility out.

 

Banishing further thoughts about the man from his mind, Alec concentrated on sipping his drink while he and Clary observed the dance floor in companionable silence. Once they'd finished, they threw themselves back into the writhing crowd and this time around, Alec was actually grateful for the distraction from thoughts about the mysterious stranger, now that he didn't have anything else to do with his hands.

 

That didn't mean he fared any better in his fruitless attempts at not accidentally harming anyone and at the same time not getting hit himself, though. Dancing – in general, but more so in such a crowded environment – wasn't exactly his forte and he didn't protest when Clary gave up with an exaggerated eyeroll another half hour later, pulling him back toward the bar. They tried to lead a half-yelled conversation over the bass but only understood about half of what the other was saying and eventually they agreed to leave after Clary would be back from the bathroom.

 

She wasn't even gone for a minute when something else across the room caught Alec's eye. This time it wasn't a tall attractive stranger, but a girl and a boy sneaking out of the back door, presumably to an abandoned alley. That in it itself wasn't all that unusual, considering they were in a club. What made every muscle in Alec's body tense and his heart race was the predatory, downright evil grin on the boy's face right before he followed the girl out.

 

He quickly weighed his options before he started fighting his way through the dancing bodies to get to the other side. He'd heard and read enough horror stories about Pandemonium's lax security and trusting girls and guys alike being raped and/or murdered in the dark alleys surrounding it to be pretty sure that if he didn't go after them and his suspicions shouldn't be unfounded, after all, the girl could end up being the next one briefly mentioned in a newspaper report.

 

When Alec had finally made it to the back door he wasted no time slipping through it, trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness of his surroundings while they searched for the pair. It didn't take him long to find them, the girl struggling and crying silently as the boy pressed a palm over her mouth to keep her silent, his other hand pinning both of hers to the wall in her back. A demonic grin that made shivers crawl up and down Alec's spine spread on the boy's face as he looked down at his victim, his lips parting to reveal what looked to Alec like way more teeth than a single human being should ever possess. Before he'd had time to really process what he was saying or think about how dumb he was being, he already found himself shouting at the boy.

 

"Hey!"

 

The boy turned, his disconcerting teeth gleaming and sharp in the stray rays of moonlight falling into the alley as he narrowed his eyes at Alec. Taking him in, he seemed to change his mind, giving Alec an appreciating glance before he used his grip on the girl's hands to throw her into the row of dumpsters next to them. Not sparing her another glance, he slowly approached Alec, the same predatory look that had Alec following them out in the first place back on his face.

 

Alec stumbled backward, his hand already on the door handle, ready to throw the door open and run for it until he could hide in the anonymous crowd and hopefully get security to actually do something. He hadn't even moved the handle a single inch when the boy was already on him, his revolting breath fanning over Alec's face as he pushed him up against the door, his abnormally plentiful, pointed teeth sending even more panicked shivers down his spine. The handle was pressing painfully in his back now, making him all the more aware that his only escape route to relative safety was blocked – as well as the only way out for anyone who might save _him_.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw the girl struggling weakly to her feet, holding her head and giving him a pitying, panicked look before she ran for her life. Alec couldn't reproach her for it, and if he was lucky maybe she'd be able to direct security here before it was too late for him.

 

"Don't worry about her, pretty boy, I'll be done with you and long gone from here before she'll even get to one of those useless security guards," the boy said with a smirk, following Alec's gaze. He was just about to turn his attention back to Alec when another, foreign voice cut through the silence of the alley.

 

"I wouldn't bet on that." Alec's gaze flicked toward the wall opposite them, coming to rest on the strange man he'd stared at earlier. He looked very out of place in all his glittering, colorful glory, just casually leaning against the wall behind him, legs crossed and inspecting his nails like this was something he did all the time.

 

"Oh, and why not?" the boy said, his voice a cold monotone. His nails dug into Alec's arms until they drew blood – Alec gasped and started to shiver in earnest when he looked down to where the boy's hands clutched him only to find they suddenly resembled claws rather than actual human fingers. The boy didn't mind Alec, his attention on the stranger.

 

"Because I'm not going to let you," the stranger said, a mocking grin tugging at his full, bright violet lips. He lifted his gaze from his nails to stare right at the boy and another shiver went down Alec's spine – his eyes still looked very much like a cat's. A cat about to pounce and kill. This time, there was no mistaking it for a trick of light.

 

Alec felt the boy's nails – claws? – bore even deeper into his arms and he could sense the tremors running through him from this close up. Looking up at him from where he was still pressed into the door, fear was evident on the boy's distorted features. It made no sense, the stranger was unarmed as far as Alec could tell and apart from his murderous glare there was nothing particularly threatening about him. What was there to be afraid of? Looks couldn't kill, after all.

 

Just as the thought crossed Alec's mind, his attacker lit up like a particularly dry stack of hay, stumbling away from him with an agonized scream, but not before Alec could feel the flames singe his own skin where they had touched. Uncaring, the stranger stepped around the crumpled, burning form of the boy, approaching Alec with a significantly more friendly look in his eyes.

 

There was nowhere Alec could have fled, his back was still to the door, the handle still threatening to puncture one of his kidneys. Strangely enough, despite what had just happened, Alec didn't feel the stranger was posing a threat to him. He didn't feel the need to run. In fact, if this wasn't an expertly timed case of spontaneous combustion, the man had somehow saved Alec's life. Something in the depths of those cat eyes told Alec that he was right, no matter how lunatic it sounded. Little about this evening didn't sound lunatic.

 

"Are you okay?" Unable to form words just yet, Alec simply nodded his head, still transfixed by the stranger's weird gaze.

 

"Are you just in shock or do I have something on my face, beautiful?" the man said with a teasing lilt, a small grin lighting up the cat eyes. They were an alluring mixture of green and gold and Alec couldn't have said if he was speechless because they seemed to freeze all his higher brain functions, or because he'd just barely prevented a rape only to be almost raped and probably murdered himself if his attacker hadn't been burnt to ashes by the owner of said eyes.

 

"Your eyes," was all he managed to get out in a broken whisper, letting the wall support even more of his weight because it didn't feel like his legs would carry him much longer. For a second, Alec could see shock and surprise widen those disconcerting eyes, the stranger's mouth opening like he was about to say something.

 

It snapped shut, however, when approaching footsteps and voices echoed down the alley. Alec blinked once and the stranger was gone without a trace. With a now unhindered view of the stretch of pavement before him he noticed that the remains of his attacker and the flames consuming him had disappeared as well. The place looked as peaceful as if none of what Alec had just witnessed had ever happened.

 

On a whim, Alec decided that it'd probably be better if he wasn't here all on his own when security came, lest they assumed he was the rapist in the absence of another living being. And who knew if he wouldn't just blurt out the whole story of what he'd just seen? He'd bet money on that story landing him in the funny farm even quicker than he could blink.

 

With shaking arms, Alec pushed himself off of the door, gripping the handle like a lifeline before he turned it and stumbled back into the humidity and flashing lights of Pandemonium. He fought his way back to where Clary had left him on shaky legs, accidentally bumping into more than one person but thankfully avoiding having any drinks spilled on him.

 

He'd mostly gotten a grip on himself by the time he arrived at their meeting point. To his surprise, Clary wasn't there waiting for him impatiently. He'd been prepared to tell her some story about deciding to go to the bathroom as well and getting lost on the way. When he checked his watch he realized with a jolt that less than fifteen minutes had passed since they had parted. It felt like hours, or maybe a whole different life.

 

Only seconds later Clary appeared at his side, an apologetic smile on her face, telling him that there had been a ridiculously long queue in front of the girl's bathroom and that she was sorry he'd had to wait so long. Alec just nodded absently and dragged her out of the club by the wrist as fast as he dared. Clary laughed at him for being that desperate to get out of Pandemonium and Alec offered her a weak smile, hoping she didn't notice anything too off about him.

 

He needed time to process what had taken place in that alley. And maybe he needed time to make himself believe that it had all been in his head because he wasn't sure he could deal with it if it should turn out to be real.


	2. Chapter 2

Alec's life resumed as uneventfully as it possibly could after what had happened in the alley behind Pandemonium. He had all the time in the world to assure himself that he'd most likely drifted off into a really vivid, strange daydream while Clary had been waiting in line at the bathroom. He'd made the whole thing up in his mind to avoid death by boredom and the surreal atmosphere and flashing lights of the club had messed with his head and led him to believe any of it had been real.

 

After an almost sleepless night of tossing and turning, Alec had sat down at the kitchen table with his cereals around noon the next day – his mother had already been off to work – just staring out of the window and pushing his food around with his spoon, his mind drifting away from the task of actually eating and to burning boys with too many teeth and slightly-frightening-possibly-arsonist-but-also-very-alluring strangers with impossible cat eyes. He only realized what he was doing when the loud, rumbling complaints of his stomach alerted him to the fact that he was daydreaming instead of putting food into his mouth.

 

It was then that Alec had decided for himself that none of it had been real, that he'd been daydreaming that night as well, for lack of something better to do. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't spend another conscious thought on the matter that morning, and he'd done his best to keep that promise.

 

It had been easy to act like nothing was out of the ordinary around his mother and Clary after the decision had been made. After all, if nothing had happened, what reason was there to act anything but normal? And since neither of them gave any indication that they noticed something off about Alec, he soon succeeded in making himself forget all about that particular evening. Within a few days, his mind stopped jumping to strangers – both of the sparkly and the fangs-and-claws kind – whenever Clary teased him about their failed attempt at introducing him to clubbing. He stopped looking for purple skin or horns or weird ears whenever he had to stop his Desperate Housewives marathon and actually get out on the streets for some reason or other.

 

The one thing he couldn't stop himself from doing, though – no matter how many times he told himself that it was a ridiculous habit to develop – was searching the face of every outrageously dressed guy passing him for a glance of intriguing cat eyes. It was pathetic, really, and most of the guys didn't even look anywhere close to the stranger from Pandemonium – their skin was either too light or too dark, they were too small or too broad or had too many piercings. Most didn't even have a trace of Asian heritage in their features or they had their hair in bright red mohawks or matted to their head with gel instead of doing it up in silky-looking black spikes tipped with glitter and every color of the rainbow.

 

Whenever Alec caught himself doing it and a wave of disappointment rolled through him when the eyes were not slanted enough or the lips too full or the nose too straight, he scolded himself for looking for a piece of his own imagination wherever he went. But knowing that something was a waste of time and being able to keep yourself from doing it nonetheless were two completely different things and so Alec caught himself doing it again and again, no matter how effectively he'd banned the images of that night from his conscious mind.

 

His dreams were a whole different story altogether. His subconscious rebelled against this denial, pragmatic as it might be, demanding that he face the truth. Night for night he woke up in a sweat, taking deep breaths and clutching his sheets in a death grip for minutes at a time until the imaginary scent of smoke finally left his lungs and he could see nothing but blackness behind his closed eyelids instead of gleaming teeth and gold-green.

 

Sometimes he woke up on the floor at two in the morning, twisted in his sheets, shivering violently for an indeterminable amount of time as the sensation of hot, revolting breath fanning across his face from way too close up repeated itself in his brain so realistically that he was covered in goosebumps and had to suppress the urge to vomit. Some nights he lost that fight, feeling like the door handle was still pressing painfully into his back where he was sporting a deep purple bruise he did his best to ignore as he hunched over the toilet, his fingers digging into the cold, unresponsive plastic of the seat as he dry heaved.

 

But Alec was determined not to let his nightmares get the better of him, dragging himself back into bed every night after cleaning up whatever mess he'd made, sleeping for another few hours that were thankfully void of dreams for the most part – probably due to exhaustion – before getting up and eating his breakfast in the kitchen with his mother just like he always had. They made small talk until Maryse had to leave, which was when Alec drowned any lingering thoughts of the night's terrors first in a way too hot, long shower and then in a mind-numbing marathon of TV show reruns until Clary would call him up and either drop by to join him or convince him to actually get out of the apartment and do something with her and their other friends.

 

By that time he'd already gotten a grip on himself and he didn't have to fake anything when they hung out playing video games or reading comic books at Simon's or Maya's or Clary's while making plans for the future, or when he came home in the evening to have dinner with his mother and talk about their days. Maryse would always roll her eyes at him for spending yet another half day with the Girlmore Girls and Alec would always refrain from casually remarking on the fact that she had all seven seasons on DVD hidden in the bookshelf in her room and could actually quote from it.

 

They'd laugh at the ridiculous demands of impossible clients – why would anyone order ratatouille when they were allergic to most of the ingredients? Why not just order a plate of grilled zucchini instead of ruling everything else out? – and watch the news before curling up on the couch together with a book until their eyes became too heavy to keep reading and they trudged off to their beds only to repeat the same routine the next day.

 

Alec's life might not have been the most exciting one, but he was content with it the way it was.

 

###

 

Nothing happened to break that routine until exactly seven weeks to the day after Alec had entered Pandemonium for the first and hopefully last time in his life. He was heading home after an afternoon of Dungeons and Dragons at Simon's that had ended early because Simon and his sister had to attend a football game of some distant cousin they talked to once every three years but that their mother still insisted they went to. Alec had snickered a bit to himself at the grimace Simon had pulled when he'd reluctantly climbed into the car, though he mostly felt pity for his friend. There wasn't much Simon despised more than sport events. Which was why Alec had given up inviting him to his own years ago – but Simon, Clary and Maya still showed up to every single one, even though they looked bored to death half the time.

 

What could he say? Alec had definitely landed the jackpot when it came to friends. He might only have those three but that was more than enough for him.

 

Since Clary and Maya were out shopping to replace another one of Clary's jeans that had fallen victim to indelible paint splatters – Alec had politely and maybe just a bit panicky declined their invitation to join them – and Maryse wasn't going to be home for another few hours, there was only one thing Alec could think of doing – and that was indulging his caffeine dependency.

 

Mere minutes later he was already strolling down the street with a scalding mocha in his hand, softly blowing on it as he took his sweet time walking home. There was no need to take the subway or even hurry his pace since the only thing awaiting him in the apartment would be another episode of Desperate Housewives, anyway. What better time to take a nice walk?

 

However nice the idea had sounded in his head, it was abruptly interrupted when Alec – lost in thought and undecided what to watch next now that he'd re-watched all of Gilmore Girls and had arrived at the last season of Desperate Housewives – walked straight into someone tall and very warm. Unfortunately, Alec didn't believe in those tiny lids coffee places tended to put on your paper cups without asking – why waste the plastic if he was going to drink it right away, anyway? – which inevitably led to the whole of his beverage running down the stranger's immaculate clothes.

 

"Dammit, can't you watch where you're going?!" Alec barely had time to take in the silky, bright petrol blue fabric of the man's shirt or the cherry red softness that was the scarf tied around his neck – both tainted with coffee now but still smelling primarily of something sensual and warm Alec couldn't really place that made him want to swoon with how inviting it was – when their owner's voice reached his ears. A shiver went down Alec's spine even before he'd consciously recognized it. Despite the blush he could feel burning on his cheeks and the almost overwhelming desire to run and hide from this embarrassment, Alec's eyes immediately flicked up to the stranger's.

 

"So I didn't imagine it," he whispered as he was met with the gold-green, slitted cat eyes he'd probably subconsciously expected since 'silky bright petrol blue shirt' had really registered in his brain. There was a flash of recognition in those eyes, widening them for a second, the corners of a mouth as inviting as the man's smell twitching up in what would have been a smile if it had been given time to develop. As it was, Alec blinked and the stranger was gone – yet again.

 

It really shouldn't have changed anything. They hadn't even exchanged a single word, the man had disappeared the second they had made eye contact, what he'd seen in that fleeting second could have been another trick of light or his nightmares haunting him into daylight now. But his nightmares had been getting better and that smooth, strangely lilting voice still rang in his ears, the inviting smell still clung to his lungs.

 

Alec stood in the middle of the street, staring at nothing as people passed him and gave him weird looks, an empty cup of coffee he'd drunk nothing but a sip of in his hand, breathing in that smell and hearing that voice even if smog and the noises of cars and people all around him should have drowned them out. And it changed everything.

 

###

 

In a dark alley just a few steps behind Alec's back, a smile tugged at yet another stranger's face. Their eyes never strayed from the lost figure standing still in the ever-moving crowd. The stranger didn't move until Alec seemed to come back to his senses and returned to the coffee shop, following at a safe distance, unseen and unheard by both the people separating them and the boy they followed. And when Alec finally went home – this time taking the subway, a lid carefully placed on his second cup of coffee that afternoon – they still followed him, an invisible shadow.


	3. Chapter 3

Magnus Bane liked to pride himself on his ability to not go into hysterics over every little thing. Several hundred years of life experience tended to force at least some patience on you, as well as the ability to keep calm if required. Unfortunately for Ragnor Fell, Magnus felt no need to make use of that ability around him since at least the 1720s.

 

"You wouldn't believe who I just walked into!" Without much ceremony or even a word of greeting, Magnus burst into the kitchen, taking Ragnor's freshly brewed cup of coffee right out of his hand in passing before elegantly throwing himself into the chair opposite of his friend. He gave him an expectant look, as if Ragnor should be overjoyed at the announcement. Ragnor opted to glare at the coffee in Magnus' hand instead, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"Chances are I don't care. Can I get my coffee back now?"

 

Magnus sucked in an indignant breath. "Blasphemy! You're currently a guest in my home, dear Ragnor, need I remind you of that? Meaning that a) I demand you listen to me when I have exciting news and b) all and any coffee brewed in this kitchen is by default _my_ coffee."

 

"This is why I should have booked into a hotel," Ragnor grumbled under his breath, giving the cup in Magnus' hand one last glare before getting out of the chair and pouring himself another one.

 

"Oh, you know you love staying with me," Magnus said, waving his hand dismissively as Ragnor sat back down with his coffee. "Anyway, to come back to rule number one, I saw _him_ again."

 

"God, Magnus, not again!" Ragnor groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Will you ever learn to stay out of trouble? That boy is bad news, I'm telling you."

 

"You don't know that!" Now it was Magnus' turn to cross his arms and glare at his friend. "And besides, we both know I can't resist a bad idea. Especially not such a good-looking one."

 

"He's a mundane. A mundane you met when you saved his ass from being eaten by a demon in a dark alley behind a club. Who can see your eyes past a glamour. That's not the start of the silly love stories you're so fond of, Magnus. That's the beginning of the kind of story that ends with someone finding _your_ dead body in a dark alley behind a club."

 

"As much as I appreciate your optimism," Magnus said in his best haughty tone, taking a sip from his coffee and leaning even further back in his chair. "I happen to find that boy fascinating. I can take care of myself, Ragnor. Just because I'm keeping an eye out for him doesn't mean I'm already planning the proposal."

 

Ragnor snorted, rolling his eyes at his friend. "If you can take such good care of yourself, why is it that all your bad ideas usually end either with Catarina and me trying to chase you down and minimize the damage you've done or you coming to one of us moaning about your broken heart? You're hopeless when it comes to romance, Magnus."

 

"Am not!"

 

"Are too! You _do_ remember Peru, don't you? And the drama with what's-his-face, the charanguista boy? I swear, the next time you're heading for a desert on a flying carpet I'm not going to follow you to let myself be punctured by needles. Emigrate and become a cactus for all I care."

 

"How dare you compare my tragic romance with Imasu with this intriguing stranger! They're completely different situations." Magnus huffed, putting his cup down with a little more force than necessary, little drops of coffee splashing on the table.

 

"I could elaborate, but seeing as I'm the best friend you'll ever have I'm not going to. Let's just say that every time you come to me waxing poetic about some poor guy or gal, you end up heartbroken. Especially if they mean trouble from the very start."

 

"You're such a pessimist," Magnus said. He tried to hide his smile behind his coffee cup but Ragnor had already seen it.

 

"On the contrary. Didn't you know? Green is the color of hope."

 

Magnus merely raised an eyebrow as he took another sip of coffee.

 

"Oh, hush." With a resigned sigh, Ragnor put down his cup and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as if asking it for forgiveness for what he was about to say. "Now, tell me more about the Stranger of Doom."

 

"Really?" Magnus was bouncing excitedly in his seat like a five-year-old, a ridiculously wide grin on his face and his eyes sparkling. That expression was never a good omen. Shuddering in anticipation for what was to come, Ragnor shut his eyes.

 

"Yes, really. It's not like you're going to shut up about him anytime soon, anyway."

 

By the time Magnus finally got to the explanation for the coffee stains on his shirt and scarf, Ragnor deeply regretted his graciousness. He'd heard enough about how gorgeous Blue Eyes the Mysterious Stranger was to never, ever want to date or even hook up with anyone with blue eyes or black hair – if just to avoid any and all association with that afternoon of torture. Magnus' time as a charanguista had been less painful on his poor, suffering ears. Who would have thought that bad poetry could be even more horrifying than those dying animal noises?

 

###

 

"I'm beginning to side with Ragnor, Magnus," Catarina said, sighing as she was pulled into another store. It had been three days since Magnus had walked into the stranger again and he had yet to shut up about him – to either of them. He'd called Catarina the minute Ragnor had taken his coffee and sought refuge in the guest room, slamming the door in Magnus' face. Fed up with all that talk about the Mysterious Stranger with the Blue Eyes, Catarina had agreed to take Magnus on a shopping trip to distract him from his new favorite topic.

 

Now she shuddered as they passed a pair of neon green hot pants adorned with equally tear-inducing neon yellow suspenders, seriously questioning that decision. She'd never say it out loud but sometimes she got the impression Magnus didn't so much try to make a fashion statement as he simply summoned stuff up and dressed in the dark out of laziness – he just knew how to sell it.

 

"Traitor!" The yell came from the other side of the shop. Thanks to his height, Catarina could see Magnus' dramatic heart-clutching gesture over the racks of something vividly pink she didn't really care to identify. It had way too many slashes for her taste, anyway.

 

"Magnus, you have to admit it doesn't sound like a good idea. The circumstances of your first meeting alone should be enough to put you off." Magnus just gave her a blank look.

 

"Okay, okay, I get the message. You love bad ideas. But this is a you-will-get-yourself-killed sort of bad idea. I just don't want you to get hurt."

 

"Oh, dear Catarina." Magnus' expression relaxed into a soft smile. With three strides of his impossibly long legs, he'd crossed the room, draping an arm around her and pressing a brief kiss to her head. "I appreciate how much you care. But there's no need to worry. I know what I'm doing."

 

As she watched him disappear into a chaos of too brightly colored garments that looked like they belonged either into a bad porno or to a very sparsely dressed clown, Catarina found she'd never been less sure of that.

 

Someone bumped into her side, disrupting her train of thought, and as she looked up to apologize for standing in the way she caught sight of a pair of blue eyes – and promptly flinched. The girl's hair was dyed bright red, nowhere near 'the black of the witching hour or the wings of a raven'. It would seem Magnus' terrible attempts at poetry at least had some kind of effect on her, though not necessarily a good one.

 

###

 

"I thought this shopping trip was supposed to take your mind off of that boy." Catarina skeptically eyed the brand new blue scarf draped around Magnus' neck. Actually, now that she was thinking about it, there was a very suspicious amount of blue in the shopping bags they were dragging with them.

 

"That's what you and Ragnor supposed. I never said I was going to stick to that plan, now, did I?" Magnus smirked at her, his fingers playing with the soft fabric of the scarf almost reverently. "Besides, I had to replace my poor, coffee-stained red baby. The replacement just so happened to match Mysterious Stranger's eyes incredibly well."

 

Catarina rolled her eyes at him and pulled playfully at the piece of bright blue, silky fabric closest to her. "Because you couldn't possibly have removed those coffee stains with your considerable powers, Magnus Bane?"

 

"Absolutely not, Catarina Loss," Magnus said, the teasing lilt back in his tone – and, being the vengeful little beast he sometimes was, he couldn't resist tugging a bit at her carefully braided hair in revenge. Catarina was just about to make a retort about pretty, black-haired boys with blue eyes that meant nothing but trouble when she caught movement in the shadows of the alley to her left out of the corner of her eye.

 

When she looked more closely, she was met with the sight of a boy just as Magnus had described him, backed against a wall, startlingly blue eyes wide with fear as a Drevak demon approached him, sniffing the air with a satisfied, guttural noise that made her skin crawl. How that thing could smell anything beyond its own revolting odor of rot and garbage was beyond Catarina.

 

Before she could think of a plan of action, the demon shook its long, dangly limbs as if trying to chase away a particularly annoying fly – and attacked. It moved so fast Catarina could make out nothing but a blur and the piercing scream of the boy as the demon's mouth closed around his left arm, no doubt sinking its poisonous spines as deep into his skin as possible.

 

Instinctively, Catarina took a step forward to protect the poor kid, drawing his attention to her. For a second, her gaze locked with stunning blue eyes that stirred a vague memory somewhere in the depths of her mind. The pleading expression in those eyes made her want to run forward and save the boy, help him like she had done when another pair of bright blue eyes she should have avoided at all costs had begged her, years and years ago...

 

Before she could find her bearings and actually act on the impulse to protect, Magnus seemed to finally have caught on to what was happening. She could feel the surge of barely controlled magic emanating from him, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Blue flames shot past her, so powerful that the heat radiating from them slightly singed her skin even though Magnus had kept a safe distance from her.

 

The demon burned and disappeared to whatever dimension it had come from almost as fast as it had moved to attack the boy – the boy that crumpled against the wall as soon as it was gone, sliding to the floor as if the demon's grip on his arm had been the only thing holding him up. Catarina hadn't even taken more than two steps toward him when Magnus was already crouching at his side, frantically checking his pulse.

 

"Come on, Blue Eyes, don't die on me just yet. Definitely not before I solve the mystery," she heard him say when she came into earshot. The boy – apparently Magnus' blue-eyed stranger from the alley, the one with no coffee lid on his cup – had lost consciousness by the time she knelt down next to them, which did nothing to alleviate Magnus' worries. Exasperated with his restlessly moving hands, Catarina caught them in hers, gently pressing them back to his sides.

 

"Calm down, Magnus. It was a Devrak, he won't die on the spot. Let me do it?" She just hoped he had enough common sense left to leave the task to her, as he obviously was in no state to extract the poison himself. A headless chicken might have done a better job.

 

"Yes, yes, you do it," he said absentmindedly, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants as he clenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself. Catarina gave him a last worried look before she turned her attention to the poisoned, unconscious boy at her side, carefully assessing the damage.

 

When she was sure the poison hadn't spread very far in his bloodstream just yet, she went to work extracting what had been able to get in and closing the wounds caused by the Devrak's spines.

 

"Is he going to be okay?" Magnus asked as he observed her carefully, voice hushed and small, as insecure as if he didn't know exactly how easy it was for Catarina to heal that kind of minor injury.

 

"Of course he is," she said, fondly rolling her eyes. She lowered her hands once the poison was removed from the boy's bloodstream and the danger warded off. Her smile softened when she caught Magnus' gaze, the worry in it only partly replaced by relief. "But there's something we should probably talk about."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Your little blue-eyed mundane stranger is not a mundane."

 

Magnus' eyes widened in surprise, his gaze flickering back and forth between the still, pale figure now breathing peacefully and his blue-skinned friend. Catarina kept her gaze steady, not once averting it from Magnus' face.

 

"What?" he finally said, nervous anticipation evident in his tone. Catarina had no idea how he would take what she had to tell him, so she couldn't help but share the sentiment.

 

"He's a Shadowhunter, Magnus."


	4. Chapter 4

On the outside, not much had changed in the three days since Alec had stopped pretending that the cat-eyed stranger didn't exist or that he'd imagined the whole scene in the alley behind Pandemonium. He was still making small talk with his mom, laughing and joking around with his friends, watching Dr. House obsessively (he was through with the last season of Desperate Housewives by now).

 

But the nightmares had returned with a vengeance and Alec was getting slightly paranoid – okay, maybe more than just slightly – whenever he was walking down the streets on his own, whether it be night or day. He was no longer just unconsciously looking for the stranger who had saved his life – and he had developed the habit of actually putting a lid on his coffee. He didn't need a repeat of what had happened to Cat Eyes' outfit, and he somehow doubted the next person he'd accidentally spill a whole cup of coffee over would be benevolent enough to just disappear without leaving a cleaning bill behind.

 

With the knowledge that it hadn't just been his overactive imagination that night behind Pandemonium came a surreal feeling casting a shadow over every last normal thing he did. It felt like something was lurking in the dark, just waiting to strike and tip his world on its axis until it would finally turn upside down. What was real and what not? Could you still tell after you'd run into the one thing you were so convinced wasn't real, the reminder that running from the truth and denying it never really worked out in the end?

 

Maybe Cat Eyes just liked this look so much that he was wearing contacts 24/7. Maybe he'd been the only real part about that night and the boy with too many teeth and claws had never been there. Maybe Alec just had some sort of complex and wanted to be the damsel in distress, rescued by the glittering savior, so he'd made the whole thing up.

 

On top of all his doubts and his world teetering precariously on edge, he swore he kept seeing strange things. If he'd seen a guy with purple skin or a girl with flowers for hair every once in a while before his second run-in with Cat Eyes, he now felt like he couldn't go anywhere without stumbling over strange figures. A tall woman with claws for hands, a guy with a beak, people with all sorts of animal eyes, more boys and girls alike with too many teeth in their overly predatory smiles... Alec didn't know if he was losing it or if his imagination was really running wild with him now – or if maybe, just maybe, it was something else. Like there possibly being more to the world he was living in than he'd ever dared to imagine or look for.

 

Alec did his best to shake that last thought especially – he actually preferred insanity as an explanation for some of the things he thought he'd seen – but he never really succeeded and it kept crawling back to the forefront of his mind.

 

On the third day of his struggle with his changing perception of reality, Alec was on his way back home from another afternoon at Simon's when he brushed past someone whose sight made him stop dead in his tracks and caused bile to rise up in the back of his throat. Not because that person was covered in scales or sprouted horns – in fact, she was as human-looking as one could possibly be. No, this time it wasn't her foreignness that made him stop mid-motion and his world spin and tilt.

 

It had been the girl he'd saved that night, weeks ago.

 

She hadn't seen him, hadn't even looked at him out of the corner of her eye or turned back around. But Alec had recognized her and seeing someone so closely related to that specific night who clearly wasn't anything other than a human being just like himself somehow made it even more real than running into Cat Eyes and accidentally spilling coffee down his clothes. Alec blinked and followed her retreating form with his gaze and she was still there, not growing wings or claws or pulling a mysterious disappearing act, just hurrying down the street with her head slightly bowed and her hair covering most of her face. If it hadn't been for a conveniently timed gust of wind blowing it aside, Alec probably wouldn't even have been able to identify her.

 

The crowd moving around him suddenly made him feel claustrophobic. Alec needed time to think, to readjust his teetering world without feeling like the walls of the buildings surrounding him were closing in on him. He tried to take deep breaths and calm himself down but when he caught a flash of another normal enough-looking head adorned with what looked like horse ears out of the corner of his eye, all he could do was duck his head and run for the next alley.

 

Alec retreated deep into the shadows, leaning back into the cold wall behind him when he felt he'd brought enough space between himself and the people passing by on the street, trying to figure out the mess his life had become in the relative quiet and solitude welcoming him in the dark. The smell of the garbage cans to his right wasn't as inviting but at least he didn't have to worry about anyone bumping into him or asking him if he was okay.

 

At first, Alec didn't notice anything off, too preoccupied with his reeling mind to really pay attention to his surroundings. But his instincts told him to look up after a few minutes of mostly silent freaking out, the uncomfortable chills of feeling someone watching you running up and down his spine. He thought he'd seen something distinctly human-looking move in the shadows at the end of the alley when a noise from the opposite wall paralyzed him with fear.

 

It was not at all a human kind of noise and when Alec looked over, not daring to move more than strictly necessary, he found that that was very fitting indeed. Because what clung to the wall facing him certainly wasn't human by even the broadest definition.

 

The creature's head was turned toward Alec as if it was watching him – which was rather unlikely considering that it had no eyes, or at least none that he could make out in its grotesque face. Its long limbs were attached to the wall and Alec could see where the claws at its hands and feet dug into the concrete as if it were butter. The creature lifted its nose up in his direction and sniffed the air, huge mouth pulled back into a growl, baring what should have been teeth but looked more like spines. Without a warning, it dropped to the ground in one strangely smooth motion and inched closer, raising to its hind legs in a failed attempt to imitate human posture.

 

Slightly gagging and trying to suppress the urge to vomit as the air moved and the revolting smell of the creature really hit him, Alec pressed his back as close to the wall as possible, hoping and praying that he wasn't what it was looking for. Unfortunately for him, no one seemed to hear his prayers – the creature simply took another deep breath and made a sound that was way too close to satisfaction for his liking. It made Alec's skin crawl with fear.

 

The creature shook itself like it was chasing away a fly and before Alec could even try to make a run for it or form another thought, it moved – so fast his eyes couldn't follow. For a split second, Alec let himself hope that it had left to find other prey – only for the thought to be interrupted by blinding pain as long limbs attached themselves to him and something sharp pierced the skin of his left forearm.

 

His own piercing scream still rang in his ears as he saw something move at the end of the alley – the end from which he'd come, the one leading to safety and a world where creatures such as the one currently trying to bite through his arm were nothing but the stuff of nightmares or horror movies. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he'd also seen movement in the shadows to his other side but he wasn't about to check if he'd been right. If there were even more of those things waiting for him in the dark he didn't want to know. He'd rather look the other way and hope that someone had seen him and hopefully would come to his rescue.

 

His gaze locked with a pair of kind gray eyes, looking about as shocked as he felt. Their owner had stepped forward instinctively instead of making a run for it and in the stray rays of light falling into the far end of the alley, her skin seemed to glow a deep blue. For some reason, it made him think of Cat Eyes and the way he'd almost casually burned down the boy with too many teeth. Maybe she'd be able to save him. With some kind of vile creature attached to his arm Alec certainly wasn't above pleading for help.

 

The woman with the blue skin seemed willing enough to rescue him and Alec sucked in a relieved breath when she made to take another step forward – only for a spear of blue flames to fly past her and dig right into the torso of the thing still clutching him. It burned for a second before it disappeared like it had never been there in the first place, like the whole thing had been nothing but his imagination – if it hadn't been for the throbbing pain still racing up Alec's arm and the warm blood dripping from the wounds the creature had left.

 

Alec let himself collapse against the wall, his sight already starting to blur around the edges, the world tilted at a funny angle. He was hot and cold and dizzy all at the same time. The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and everything went black, thankfully taking all of those clashing feelings carrying out a war inside of him along, was a pair of frantic cat eyes running toward him.

 

###

 

"What do you mean he's a- no, he can't be. Do you see any runes on his arms?!" Magnus gestured at the boy's unmarked skin with wild eyes, his hands shaking slightly. Catarina sighed inwardly but couldn't find it in her to reproach her friend for freaking out. Inviting trouble in form of a mundane was one thing – inviting trouble in form of a Shadowhunter was pure insanity. Even Magnus had to recognize as much.

 

"He can and he is. He's just not Marked."

 

"How can you know for sure, then?" Magnus said, his voice wavering. Catarina suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. As if a healer as experienced as herself couldn't tell the difference between a mundane and a Shadowhunter, Marked or not. Ignoring the insinuation, she went on.

 

"I know his mother. In fact, you know his parents, too. I don't know what happened to his father but his mother has been hiding with him in New York ever since the Uprising. He looks a lot like her, now that he's grown up. He has her eyes."

 

Magnus raised his eyebrows at Catarina's words. 'Knowing' a Shadowhunter – and where they lived – that had been hiding from the Clave after the Uprising was pretty much code for 'I helped them hide' among Downworlders. Which wasn't something you wanted anyone to think, unless you wanted to spice up your life with several handfuls of enemies among your own kind and a whole lot of distrust directed against you.

 

"Who is he?" was all he said. The answer probably wasn't one he'd be eager to hear but trying to gloss over the truth wouldn't do them any good in their current situation. Not with demonic spies following the boy around.

 

Catarina took a deep breath, looking like she'd rather face the Devrak in hand-to-hand combat than answer his question. "Maryse Lightwood's son," she finally said, her voice small and hushed, barely audible – as if she were hoping Magnus wouldn't hear her.

 

But of course he did hear her. His face went completely blank, like the words had wiped out all trace of emotion inside of him. For a moment, he said nothing at all, just stared at the boy without really seeing him. Eventually, Magnus' right hand let go of the fabric of his pants and he raised it to the boy's head, letting the inky strands of hair run slowly through his fingers.

 

Magnus bit his lip as he watched the movement of his own fingers as they gently twisted in the boy's locks again and again, his hand seeming to move of its own accord, detached from the rest of his body. When he finally let go it looked like it cost a lot of effort to get it to obey. It sank back down to Magnus' side but his fingers didn't seem to want to leave the boy, their tips brushing his temple and cheek on their way down as if they couldn't bear to lose contact.

 

Magnus' expression was no longer blank by the time his fingers dug back into the fabric of his pants but for a second, Catarina almost wished the blankness back. It had been better than the lost sadness in his eyes. Even Magnus, ever the optimist, couldn't deny that this was bad news – for all of them.

 

"He does look a lot like his mother, now that you mention it." His voice sounded bitter. He shook his head like he was trying to shake all the unwanted thoughts that came with that newly revealed piece of information and unsteadily got up to his feet.

 

"Magnus?" The word shook almost as much as Magnus' hands. Catarina quickly hid her own left hand in her pocket and closed the other around the boy's arm to hide that they were shaking just as badly.

  
"We should bring him to my loft. It'll do no good if he wakes up in a dark alley after this." He gestured to the claw marks still clearly visible on the opposite wall. Catarina just nodded and watched as Magnus started to draw a Portal on the stone.

 

His emotions were too carefully controlled, his lips pressed into a thin line, his hands too steady all of a sudden. Magnus resembled a cat in many ways – one of them being that he tended to purr and pretend everything was just wonderful one moment, only for him to attack with claws out and teeth bared the next. He was radiating cold the way his magic had radiated heat when it had burned the demon to ashes – and with Magnus Bane, that was always a sign to cower behind the nearest object because he would explode any second now. Catarina was sure that the explosion would come as soon as the boy would be safely stowed away in one of his guest rooms. Still, she didn't hesitate to follow when Magnus carefully slid his arms under the pale figure and lifted it up.

 

For a moment, Magnus just looked down on the boy's strangely peaceful face. Maybe it was just the light of the Portal but Catarina could swear she saw his features soften with tenderness. She quickly averted her eyes – this was not her sight to intrude on.

 

"You told me who his mother is, but you never told me his name," Magnus said at last, turning his back to her and slowly walking toward the Portal. Catarina hurried to keep up with his long strides, though she didn't raise her eyes to meet his gaze even after she'd caught up. His eyes were probably still locked on the boy, anyway.

 

"Alexander, his name is Alexander."

 

"Alexander," she heard Magnus whisper, his tone so tender she couldn't help but look up at him. His cat eyes were caressing the pale face the same way his voice had caressed his name. As they stepped through the Portal together, Catarina couldn't help but bite her lip and wring her hands. Magnus had always been one to fall fast, and judging by the way he looked at Alexander? She was probably going to see a lot more of the Lightwoods in the near future than she'd wanted to ever again.

 

###

 

Hidden from sight in the shadows at the end of the alley, a stranger watched the scene unfolding before them carefully. Their eyes never left the unconscious boy, at the same time keeping track of every movement of the two warlocks. When the boy's labored breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep, they finally left the scene. They knew where Bane lived and following him and his blue-skinned friend was out of the question, since they were using a Portal. It wasn't like there was any place Alexander Lightwood could hide from them, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

The moment Catarina and Magnus set foot in Magnus' flat, they were greeted by a grumpy-sounding Ragnor calling from the direction of the kitchen.

 

"About damn time! It's beyond me how anyone with a closet as huge as Magnus's can spend this much time buying even more clothes. There's nothing on TV and nothing decent to read in this place, I've been bored to death. I'd even listen to Magnus' ramblings about that goddamn boy, or his newest tube of glitter, just for something to do."

 

Before either Magnus or Catarina could say anything in reply, Ragnor stepped into the living room with a fresh mug of coffee in his hand – which he promptly dropped as he caught sight of the unconscious boy in Magnus' arms.

 

"Well, damn. Should have known you can't go a day without attracting serious trouble."

 

"Oh, believe me, it gets better," Magnus said, the sarcasm in his voice so biting Catarina averted her eyes to the floor and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as guilt twisted in her stomach, as if the boy's heritage were her fault. Ragnor's eyes flicked from her to Magnus, brow furrowed.

 

"What, exactly, is going on here?"

 

" _That_ I'd like to know as well," Magnus said with a look at Catarina, who kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

 

"You should lay him down somewhere, he needs to rest," she just said quietly, still not meeting Magnus' gaze. With a frustrated sigh, Magnus turned on his heel and left in the direction of his bedroom.

 

It probably shouldn't have come as a surprise that he wouldn't just tuck Alexander away in one of his guest rooms, given the way he looked at the boy, but it still made Catarina's heart clench in dark anticipation. It would be best for all of them to keep their distance from Maryse's son, to just erase the incident from his memory and bring him back home to his mother – but she knew Magnus would never agree with her. He loved a good challenge, and a beautiful Shadowhunter boy who didn't even know what he was fit the description perfectly.

 

Not to mention that out of all the people Catarina had met in her considerably long life, Magnus probably was the one with the most caring heart she'd ever seen, despite his careless attitude. He wouldn't just leave the boy to die – which was probably what would happen if they'd just let him continue living on in ignorance while someone was sending demons after him.

 

"Catarina?" Ragnor pulled her out of his thoughts, brow still furrowed, sucking part of his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched her carefully. "That's Magnus' mysterious blue eyed stranger, isn't he?" Catarina just nodded, not looking at him either as she slowly walked over to today's sapphire blue couch and let herself sink into it with a weary sigh.

 

"Told him he was going to be trouble." Ragnor huffed, following her over and dropping into the bulky armchair to her left. He was rolling his eyes but Catarina could see the tension in his shoulders, the unusual stiffness in his posture. Ragnor had always had a sixth sense for bad news, a useful trait for any friend of Magnus's – although it was most often misused to bring them even closer to trouble instead of away from it, and by no other than Magnus himself. Catarina would bet good money that the alarm bells were ringing in Ragnor's head right now – and rightfully so. She was just grateful that he wasn't pressing the matter, instead waiting for Magnus to return to the living room.

 

When he finally did, the silence in the room immediately turned from nervous and uncomfortable to below freezing point. Catarina didn't dare look up as Magnus brushed past her to elegantly fold himself in the only other remaining armchair, still scarily calm and quiet. His posture was regal and his face carefully blank as she chanced a glance out of the corner of her eye. Not a good sign.

 

"So, care to enlighten me as to why Mysterious Blue Eyes is currently unconscious and taking up your bed?" Ragnor looked straight into Magnus' eyes, as little impressed with his friend's rapidly changing moods as usual.

 

In any other situation, Catarina wouldn't bat an eyelash at the imposing vibe Magnus was giving off, either. But even though she was just the unfortunate herald in this, what she was about to tell her friends wasn't something she'd ever wanted to have brought up again. To this day, she still wasn't sure if her actions that fateful night had been the right thing to do, when she was usually so careful to avoid such precarious matters of conscience. She wasn't sure she was prepared to face her friends' potential judgement on top of her own doubts.

 

"Dear Catarina and me were just heading home when we saw Alexander being attacked by a Devrak demon in a very suspicious alley," Magnus said, not once taking his eyes off of Catarina even though he was addressing Ragnor. "We rescued him but it had already poisoned him, so we brought him back here to rest and sleep the shock and healing magic off. Now, Catarina was so kind to inform me that Alexander happens to be an unmarked Shadowhunter, and the son of Maryse Lightwood, to make matters worse. I suppose I'm just as impatient to hear more about that particular piece of information as you."

 

Ragnor let out a low whistle. "You're not doing things halfway." He shook his head disbelievingly, his white hair catching in his horns and falling into his eyes. "Then again, you never have, I don't know why I keep expecting anything else. It's not a stay with Magnus Bane unless you get into major trouble."

 

A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of Magnus' mouth, his bottom lip twitching in an attempt to suppress it. Catarina had always been grateful for Ragnor's uncanny ability to distract Magnus and cheer him up during his more somber moods, but the wave of relief flooding her as she watched some of the stiff coldness melt from her friend's body language was unmatched so far.

 

"But you're right, I _am_ dying to hear what Catarina has to do with this," Ragnor finally said, turning to her. His expression was less harsh than Catarina had dared to hope it would be, the raised eyebrow indicating mere curiosity rather than judgement.

 

"It's a long story," she sighed, finally looking at Magnus. He gave her a careful smile, his demeanor slowly going back to normal now that he'd processed the worst of the shock. But it was still a smile you'd give someone who'd helped Maryse Lightwood of all people – guarded, like you'd look at someone you used to be friends with that turned out to enjoy torturing little animals for sport. She had set herself up for this when she'd helped a Circle member, and one that was notorious for their cruelty towards Downworlders at that. It still stung, though.

 

"Well, we have time," Magnus said after a few uncomfortable minutes of oppressive silence, conjuring up three cups of tea with a snap of his fingers and a little shower of blue sparks. "Go on ahead, I've put Alexander under for another hour or two, just to be safe."

 

Catarina closed her fingers around the cup, more so to have something to do with her hands than because she actually wanted to drink more than a sip. Her stomach seemed to have turned itself into knots and the mere idea of drinking or eating anything was revolting. But the warmth seeping into her hands and the fragrant steam rising from the cup were comforting enough for now.

 

"As you probably guessed, it all began with the Uprising..."

 

###

 

_Catarina hesitated as she crossed the threshold of the Lightwoods' residence in Alicante. A team of Shadowhunters had already searched the building after both Robert and Maryse Lightwood had somehow managed to escape from the battle in the Accords Hall, but that didn't do much to ease the chills being in this place sent down her spine._

 

_While Catarina was by no means unable to defend herself she still was a healer, not a fighter, and the job didn't really prepare for encounters with panicked Shadowhunters armed to the teeth and ready to do absolutely anything. She'd heard enough about the things the Lightwoods had done to her kind in the name of Valentine and the Circle to be weary of even entering their abandoned home so soon after their escape, no matter how many 'trustworthy' members of the Clave had been searching it. Answering Lucian Graymark's call to arms and refusing to slaughter unarmed, defenseless Downworlders didn't make up for centuries worth of superiority complexes, in her eyes._

 

_But there wasn't much she could do about it now. They needed information, and the Lightwoods were likely to have it. As two of Valentine's highest ranking soldiers, both the Clave and the Downworlder representatives were sure that there had to be names, places,_ something _in the abandoned building. Since Catarina had outright refused to guard any prisoners and most of the healing work required after the battle had already been done, she'd been sent out to retrieve any 'possibly helpful documents'._

 

_There was not a single sound inside the house when she finally stepped inside, the night outside the doors eerily quiet and windless. Every living thing had fled Alicante hours ago, when the inhabitants not supporting Valentine had been evacuated and the first sounds of clashing weapons, cries of battle and sizzling spells had echoed through the narrow alleys as blood flooded the stairs of the Accords Hall. Still, Catarina kept her guard up as she walked up the stairs as soundlessly as possible. After the things she'd witnessed tonight she had every right to be overly careful – if there even was such a thing._

 

_When someone had yet to barge in with a seraph blade to stop her what felt like hours later, as she bagged several piles of important-looking papers she'd found in every nook and crevice the room had to offer, she felt a treacherous sense of security settle. If someone had been lurking in the corners, surely they'd have come out to kill her by now, right? Still, relief washed over her as she stepped out of the master bedroom, intent on leaving the place. She was just setting her foot down on the first step of the staircase when the choked off cry of an infant stopped her dead in her tracks._

 

_Cursing herself for her soft heart, Catarina whirled around and sneaked down the hallway toward the room with the crib at the end of the corridor. She'd noticed it before but had decided to ignore it, foolishly hoping that the Lightwoods hadn't been cold-hearted enough to hide important information about a murderous secret group in their child's bedroom. Besides, she'd found more than enough 'helpful documents' in the master bedroom, why needlessly remind herself that even heartless monsters had potentially innocent children? Wasn't her own existence, the existence of her whole race, even, proof enough? She couldn't allow herself to feel pity for the children of Circle members, not under the current circumstances._

 

_Pressing her mouth into a thin line, Catarina banished the thought from her mind. This was neither the time nor place to get sentimental. Magic already crackling at her fingertips, ready to fend off any desperate Shadowhunters, Catarina slowly pushed open the door and stepped into the room, taking a careful look around. There was no one waiting behind the door or jumping out from behind one of the few pieces of furniture. Catarina was almost convinced she'd imagined the sound when the child started sobbing again, quickly cut off by hushed, panicked whispers. The sound came from the huge heavy wardrobe that looked completely unfit for an infant's room._

 

_Catarina took a deep breath and approached the doors as quietly as possible. Wishing she'd demanded a Shadowhunter guard, no matter how little she trusted them, she threw the doors open and quickly jumped back, the spell for a shield that would hopefully withstand the ferocity of a cornered Nephilim already on the tip of her tongue. It promptly died on her lips as she took in the pitiful sight in front of her._

 

_Cowered into the farthest corner of the dark wardrobe, half hidden by heavy, dust-covered robes that looked like nobody had worn them within the last century, sat Mayrse Lightwood, her eyes bright with tears as she pleadingly looked up at Catarina. Cradled in her arms was a crying infant, two years old at most from what Catarina could see, its face hidden in its mother's hair, shaking like a leaf, its sobs muffled against her shoulder._

 

_"Please," Maryse whispered, pressing the child even closer to her chest, shaking just as badly but still fighting to keep the tears in her eyes from spilling. Pride had always been strong in the Nephilim, and Maryse Lightwood was hardly an exception. Even as she was pleading for her life she wouldn't let a lowly Downworlder see her shed a tear. It was probably insulting enough to hide in a closet, weak and at said Downworlder's mercy, Catarina thought bitterly._

 

_"Please, I don't care what you do to me, but spare my child. He's done no wrong."_

 

_Catarina warily eyed the dagger strapped to Maryse's thigh, clearly visible in the pale moonlight flooding the room. Was this a trap? Who knew where else on her body Maryse might have hidden more weapons._

 

_Another heartbreaking sob from the child drew Catarina's gaze back up. The little boy had pulled away from his mother's shoulder, tears and snot running down his face as his scared blue eyes, so much like his mother's, followed the movement of the white sparks still surrounding Catarina's hands. While Maryse's expression was pleading and scared to death, the look of panic on the boy's face was quickly replaced by curiosity and delight as he kept watching._

 

_It had been a long time since Catarina had last seen anyone this fascinated by such a simple magical phenomenon. Unable to resist the urge to chase the fear from that little innocent face, her lips twitched up into a gentle smile as she produced even more sparks, letting them float through the room. She was rewarded by a high-pitched giggle, the boy's eyes lighting up as he reached out to grab the one closest to him. It landed on his tiny chubby fingers and his blue eyes widened comically as it flickered on his skin for a second before it died. He smiled at her, a huge, innocent smile that had her heart melting instantly._

 

_"See," Maryse whispered, smiling fondly down at her child. Catarina almost jumped, she'd all but forgotten that the woman was still in the room. "He's just an innocent child. Please, let us go."_

_  
Catarina narrowed her eyes at Maryse. "For now. Until you corrupt him and raise him to hate Downworlders, just like his parents. You'll train him to kill and torture us, the same way you've been taught to."_

 

_"I won't." Maryse shook her head back and forth almost desperately, the first tears spilling reluctantly, her voice threatening to break. "If you do this for me, I swear I won't. We've been wrong. You already showed me more mercy than my own kind would have in your place. Valentine abandoned us, he left us to die in his battle. He'd kill me for running away. So would his followers. If- if you let me go, I'll have to hide. I'm a traitor to both sides now." She looked like just speaking the words out loud was hurting her, more tears finding their way down her cheeks. "My son will grow up not knowing what he is. I can't risk letting him know. We'll lead a normal life, a mundane life, out of the way. We won't harm anyone. Please."_

 

_"Why should I trust you?" Catarina said quietly, watching as the boy went back to hiding his face in Maryse's shoulder. He seemed to sense that this was literally a matter of life or death. Shadowhunters had no qualms about punishing those that had shed the blood of their own kind, and Maryse was far from innocent. It wasn't hard to imagine what the Clave might do to her if Catarina handed her over._

 

_"Please," Maryse's voice wavered as she kept looking right into Catarina's eyes. "I don't know what happened to my husband, or my daughter. Chances are they're already dead. Please don't take my little boy from me, too. They won't treat him kindly, even if you let him live, the child of two traitors. I swear on the Angel, I'll never so much as raise a hand against a Downworlder again if you let me go now."_

 

_Catarina just raised an eyebrow. "Would you sign that in blood?"_

 

_"Yes." Maryse didn't even hesitate for a second, the pure determination in her eyes causing a reluctant spark of respect for her in Catarina's heart._

 

_"Are you aware of the implications?"_

 

_"Yes, I am."_

 

_Still not entirely convinced, Catarina conjured up a piece of paper and a feather and quickly wrote down the most important points. She signed her name with a flourish before holding the slip of paper out to Maryse. "I'll help you hide – if you sign this."_

 

_Maryse's eyes merely scanned the page before she nodded. Not even flinching, she sank the tip of the feather into the skin on the back of her hand and signed her name in her own blood. Catarina looked on in shock – she hadn't expected Maryse to accept her conditions. No treaty between a warlock and a Shadowhunter was more binding than a contract signed in blood. No matter how much she might regret her quick promises the next morning or even the next hour, Maryse would be bound to the conditions written down by Catarina until the warlock decided to end the contract._

 

_They didn't exchange another word as Catarina pocketed the innocent-looking slip of paper and magically put the boy to sleep to keep him quiet. The two women sneaked out of the abandoned house and somehow managed to make their way out of Alicante without being discovered – the Lightwood residence thankfully wasn't in the heart of the city or they wouldn't even have made it to the wards._

 

_As it was, everything was buzzing with activity at the Accords Hall and the Gard, leaving the more remote alleys unobserved. Downworlders and Shadowhunters of both sides alike were too busy licking their wounds to patrol every corner of the Glass City. It wasn't like Valentine's minions were a force to be reckoned with right now, anyway, as beaten and outnumbered as they were._

 

_Even as she handed Maryse a note with her address and told her to hide in her apartment for the next few days until she'd be able to return to New York and help them, the words of their contract kept echoing in Catarina's mind, ringing in her ears as if they'd been spoken aloud too often. She quickly opened a Portal for mother and child, at a safe distance from the additional wards her fellow warlocks had placed on the city, before slipping back into the night. The words weighed heavy in her pocket as she made her way back to the Gard to report and hand over her findings – all except for the most important one._

 

**I, Maryse Lightwood, swear to lay down my weapons and live as a mundane from this day on. I swear to not contact either the Clave or fellow members of the Circle. I swear to never harm a Downworlder again. I swear to not imprint my prejudice on my son, to keep him away from the Shadow World, and to keep his mind open. In return, Catarina Loss will help me hide from the Clave and the Circle and help me settle into my new life. This is a binding contract between myself, Shadowhunter Maryse Lightwood, and warlock Catarina Loss. The magic binding me to this contract by blood does not allow for breaches of said contract.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Damn." Ragnor had turned an extremely alarming shade of pale green during Catarina's story. "So you hid _Maryse Lightwood_ and her son of all people? No wonder you never told us."

 

"I know." Catarina groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "I probably shouldn't have, but... I couldn't leave her to die. I couldn't make her child an orphan, and an unwelcome one at that."

 

"The Clave didn't actually punish most of the Circle members with anything even close to death. If you ask me, most of them got off way too lightly for what they did," Magnus said with a frown.

 

"We didn't know that back then! Magnus, you were there, you saw how they went after them in the Accords Hall. How were any of us to know that the sentence wouldn't be death? That's what expects a Shadowhunter who has raised their sword against their brethren, usually. Can you judge her for grabbing her child and going into hiding?"

 

"I guess I could judge Maryse Lightwood for a great many things, but not that." Magnus shook his head exasperatedly, looking resigned. "What do we do now?"

 

"We wait until Alexander wakes up," Catarina said, wringing her hands nervously. "And then we'll have to tell him."

 

Magnus nodded reluctantly. Ragnor opened his mouth to protest, brow furrowed, when a shaky voice cut through the room.

 

"Tell me what?" Three heads shot around to stare at the boy leaning heavily against the doorway to the living room, watching them with suspicious blue eyes.

 

"Alexander," Magnus breathed, already halfway out of his seat. "You're awake."

 

"How do you know my name?" The boy's eyes narrowed and he gave Magnus a wary look that froze him mid-motion. Magnus turned to Catarina for help, trying to downplay the hurt that had flashed across his face at Alexander's – understandable – distrust. She bit her lip and looked away. There wasn't anything she could do to make it better, or to take away the memory of his own mother flinching away from him and crossing herself every time Magnus had tried to approach her as a child. Instead of resorting to comforting lies, Catarina focused on the boy.

 

"I know your mother," she said, carefully watching his reaction. "We've met before, too, but you'd hardly remember. You weren't even three years old back then."

 

"Three?" Alexander raised an eyebrow, turning his suspicious eyes on her. "I don't mean to be rude, but you hardly look like you're much older than me, so how would _you_ remember?"

 

"I'm quite a bit older than I look, Alexander." She smiled at him. He just chewed on his lip in response, but some of the wariness left his gaze.

 

"It's Alec," he finally said, looking at anything but the other occupants of the room.

 

Catarina raised an eyebrow at him. Alec caught her expression when he looked up again and a small, shy smile spread on his face. "I don't like it when people call me Alexander, it sounds too formal."

 

"Well then, Alec, why don't you sit down? You must be exhausted and I'm just going to assume that you have quite a few questions right about now." Catarina smiled back as she got up from the couch to make room for him.

 

Biting his lip again, Alec shot Magnus a questioning look, as if asking him for permission to sit. Magnus answered with a reassuring smile and took a careful step in his direction.

 

"Feel free to make yourself at home." When Alec didn't flinch or narrow his eyes at him again, Magnus crossed the remaining distance between them. Coming to stand next to him, he offered his arm. "You still look a bit shaky on your legs. It's not every day one gets attacked by a Devrak demon. Would you mind some assistance on the long way to the couch?"

 

"Actually, no, I wouldn't mind" Alec said with a small smile, his cheeks flushing slightly as he accepted the offered arm. "It wouldn't be the first time you helped me out, either, would it?" He looked at Magnus questioningly as he leaned some of his weight against him.

 

"Ah, so you remember. Not that anything about that night was very forgettable, least of all me." He winked at Alec, slightly pulling at his arm to encourage him to lean more of his weight against him. "Don't be so shy, Alexander, I may be delightfully slim-built and lean but I assure you that I can support a lightweight such as you."

 

Alec's blush deepened but he still leaned in closer as they slowly approached the couch. "I thought I'd imagined that night. Well, obviously I didn't." He offered Magnus an apologetic smile. "Sorry about the scarf and the shirt, by the way."

 

"Oh, never mind, darling." Magnus waved his hand absentmindedly and started to fuss with the pillows as he helped Alec sit down. "I happen to be in the fortunate position to both being able to afford replacements _and_ enjoying the process of acquiring them. Though it might be advisable to grab a lid next time you plan on walking down the street daydreaming."

 

By now, Alec's cheeks had bypassed the pink hues and had went straight to shades of tomato red. "I do now," he muttered, casting his eyes on the ground and biting his bottom lip again. It was almost as red as his face from all the abuse it had suffered in the last five minutes alone.

 

"You do what now, darling?" Magnus asked distractedly, most of his attention focused on draping a blanket around Alec so carefully he might as well have been a porcelain doll.

 

"I started putting a lid on my coffee." The quiet confession finally got Magnus to look directly at him. Alec quickly averted his eyes when their gazes locked, but he did catch the brilliant smile spreading on Magnus' face, his cat eyes lighting up with it. In the background, Ragnor made retching noises. Magnus spun around to glare at him, breaking the moment, but the small smile on Alec's face remained in place.

 

"What? Don't you glare at me like this, it's not like we have more important things to do than watch you two flirt awkwardly." Ragnor crossed his arms, still unimpressed in the face of Magnus' death glare. Alec sputtered and flushed even more.

 

"We weren't-"

 

"You, my dear boy, currently have a look of stupid infatuation written all over your face, and don't get me started on how many times I've had to endure him" – he gave Magnus a pointed glare – "go on and on about your eyes. Now, I thought you might be more interested in the reason for your unfortunate encounter with a demon than in flirting but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong."

 

Alec curled up under the blanket, pulling it even closer around his body as his cheeks slowly returned to their usual pale color at the reminder.

 

"I do want to know what is going on here," he said quietly, not looking at any of them. "What was that thing in the alley and why did it seem to be looking for me? Why did it attack me? What about the boy with too many teeth behind Pandemonium?" He raised his gaze from the floor and let it sweep over the three of them. "And what about you? I don't assume you're tattooed or covered in paint or wearing contacts."

 

Both Catarina and Magnus couldn't suppress a smile and even Ragnor's lips twitched up a bit.

 

"You assumed right, there. We're warlocks. Otherwise also known as the Children of Lilith," Catarina explained softly.

 

"Lilith?" Alec's eyes widened. "As in, the demon Lilith?"

 

"The very same."

 

Alec blinked at them. "You don't look particularly demonic to me."

 

Ragnor dissolved into loud, booming laughter at that. Confusion written all over his face, Alec looked on, hardly even showing a reaction when Magnus made himself comfortable on the couch right next to him.

 

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air." Magnus smiled. "Most people are a bit more freaked out by the cat eyes, or the horns, or the blue and green skin."

 

Alec just shrugged, still watching Ragnor, though distinctly more amused and less concerned now. "I've seen weirder things. But that's not what I meant, anyway. It's not looks that make you demonic, it's-" A predatory smile flashed in Alec's mind and he shivered, tugging the blanket even tighter around himself. "It's more about your expression. You don't look at me like you want to eat me or take a bath in my blood or anything like that."

 

"Well, _most of us_ don't look at you like we want to eat you," Ragnor said with a pointed look at Magnus, still wheezing from his outburst. "Though maybe not quite in the same sense."

 

Magnus glared at him, looking about three seconds away from sticking his tongue out at his friend. "Shut up, Ragnor. No one asked your opinion."

 

"Boys." Catarina laughed, trying in vain to get either one's attention. "Safe the cat fight for later. You're just making the poor boy uncomfortable."

 

Alec did indeed look longingly in the direction of Magnus' bedroom, as if the prospect of still being unconscious in a comfortable bed with a canary yellow comforter were much more appealing than his current, slightly crazy company.

 

"Oh please, Catarina. I'm not making anyone uncomfortable. Right? I'm not making you uncomfortable, Alexander, am I?" Magnus practically purred, leaning so far in that his warm breath caressed Alec's ear, his intoxicating smell filling the air and leaving Alec shaky and blinking.

 

"What is that smell?" he asked bluntly, eyes on Magnus, suppressing the shiver that wanted to crawl down his spine at the proximity. "I've been meaning to ask but you always disappeared on me."

 

The slightly predatory smirk from earlier was wiped cleanly from Magnus' face, replaced by a look of unadulterated, wide-eyed horror. "Excuse me? Are you insinuating that I smell, Alexander?"

 

"No, no, not at all! That's not what I meant!" Alec almost choked on his own saliva in his haste to apologize, causing Magnus' lips to twitch up again as he looked on amusedly. "I meant- I mean- I was trying to say-" With a sigh, Alec gave up on his failed attempt at forming a coherent sentence.

 

Curious now, Catarina stood up and crossed the room, taking a deep breath as she leaned over Magnus. He watched her with a frown, while Ragnor dissolved into another fit of hysterical laughter.

 

"I don't actually smell, do I?"

 

"Not at all, dear," Catarina said, absentmindedly patting his spiky hair as she smiled at Alec. "I'm sure Alec meant the sandalwood, not that you need a shower."

 

"Yes!" A relieved smile lit up his eyes. "That's what I meant, I just couldn't quite put a finger on it."

 

"Well, now you know. Though you never said if you wanted to know so you can avoid the scent for the rest of your life or because you like it." The seductive grin was promptly back on Magnus' face.

 

"You wear it well," Alec mumbled so quietly Catarina almost fell out of her seat as she leaned forward to catch what he was saying. Magnus' grin only widened, though it softened into something sweeter, much more tender and less seductive.

 

"Well, thank you, dearest, you are most welcome. Really, you should drop by more often in the future, you hand out the most delightful compliments."

 

Alec just gave him a small smile in return as he burrowed deeper into his blankets. Instantly, Magnus' playfulness turned into worry – much to Catarina and Ragnor's amusement.

 

"Are you cold? You should have said something, I could have turned up the heat!" With a snap of his fingers and a little shower of blue sparks, the living room turned a more cozy temperature and Alec peeled off the blanket, staring at Magnus' hand in wide-eyed amazement.

 

"That's brilliant! Is that- was that- did you just use magic?"

 

"Why yes, my blue-eyed friend, I did." Magnus' grin started to take on potentially face-splitting proportions. "I could of course have stood up and turned the heat up the mundane way, but then I'd have had to leave your side and, most importantly, I would have missed this most adorable reaction."

 

Alec bit his lip but still didn't avert his eyes from Magnus' hands, as if he were hoping for the sparks to reappear. Magnus looked at him fondly and wiggled his fingers a little for show, deep blue sparks beginning to dance around them. Alec's eyes lit up, now almost the exact color of Magnus' magic as he watched with a wide smile and amazement written all over his face, the flickering lights reflecting in his irises.

 

"Maryse seemed to have kept her promise," Catarina said from her position in her armchair, watching Alec's expression closely. She gave him a reassuring smile when he turned to her, a questioning look on his face. "You looked at my hands the exact same way when I first met you."

 

Alec blinked at her. "How _do_ you know my mother, actually? And what promise are you talking about?"

 

"Well, that's a long story, Alec. I'll try to stick with the basics but..."

 

"Try me," Alec said, his eyes narrowed in determination. He sat up straighter, fixing each one of them in turn with a hard look. "You could start with introducing yourselves properly. I don't think any of you have told me your full names yet, but you all seem to know who I am."

 

"He has a point," Ragnor said with a shrug. He got up out of his seat deliberately slowly and approached Alec with a toothy smile that was not quite friendly, though probably not as intimidating as he'd intended. "Ragnor Fell."

 

Raising an eyebrow, Alec shook the offered green hand without a word.

 

"Catarina Loss." The blue-skinned warlock playfully shoved Ragnor out of the way when he didn't let go of Alec's hand and wouldn't break eye contact, the grip of her fingers much softer and less hostile; the smile on her face not quite welcoming but close, her gray eyes kind. She let go just a breath after what could still be called polite, dragging Ragnor back to his seat before she sat down in her own. Alec turned his gaze away from them and slumped slightly back into the pillows, looking at his fellow couch occupant with expectantly raised eyebrows.

 

"Magnus Bane." It sounded like a purr rather than words. "At your service." Instead of holding out his hand, Magnus merely leaned in closer, until nothing but air fit between his chest and Alec's left arm. Alec's slumped position emphasized the height difference between them even further, warm breath tickling at his temple as Magnus' delicious smell washed over him.

 

Alec froze at the unexpected proximity, an image of leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss Magnus suddenly flashing through his mind – hands on his chest to support his weight as he'd taste those incredibly soft-looking lips, greedily sucking in Magnus' infuriatingly calm exhales as they'd leave his lungs- Would Magnus deepen the kiss? Would he nip playfully at his bottom lip with his sharp white teeth, like Alec's hormone-swamped brain suggested every time that smirk and those heavy-lidded bedroom eyes were directed at him?

 

Would Magnus taste like all the exotic flavors, fruity and earthy and fresh, Alec associated with his heavenly smell, smooth caramel skin and intoxicating eyes? Would Alec be able to feel his heartbeat speed up under his palms, through the thin fabric of that soft-looking shirt? Would it race like Alec's pulse as the scene took shape in his head, so real he barely resisted the urge to turn his head and let his lips seek an answer to his questions, onlookers and strange situation be damned?

 

Internally shaking his head at himself, Alec drew in a sharp breath and inched away just a bit in an attempt to clear his scrambled thoughts and keep from kissing the stranger with the cat eyes – just because he now had a name to go with the face didn't mean he was any less of a potential threat. There was a flash of what could have been hurt in Magnus' eyes as Alec pulled away, but it was covered just as quickly and he smoothly sank back into his original position, a careless smile plastered on his face. Somehow, that smile made Alec's stomach clench even more painfully than the harsh cold the sudden absence of Magnus' body heat radiating onto his own skin had left behind.

 

"Well, now that you know our names I guess it's story time," Magnus said, lazily waving his ring-laden hand in Catarina's direction, a bored expression settling over his features as he inspected his nails, not sparing Alec so much as a glance. The nonchalant air reminded Alec of bright, flickering flames burning down a boy with too many teeth, singing his own skin in the process. He shuddered. Getting on Magnus' bad side probably wasn't the wisest idea. "You go ahead, dear, you have by far the most patience for that kind of thing out of all of us."

 

Catarina rolled her eyes at her friend before turning to Alec with a soft, reassuring smile. "I don't really know where to begin... But I guess the rest of the story won't make much sense to you if you don't know anything about the Shadow World."

 

"Shadow World?" Alec parroted, blinking at her, his attention effectively taken away from Magnus' suddenly cold behavior.

 

"That's what she said, and we all heard it." Ragnor huffed, looking at Alec like one might look at a particularly slow kindergartener. Alec flushed in indignation – he rarely had been on the receiving end of such looks, and saying he disliked the feeling of being treated like a first class idiot would be the underestimation of the year.

 

It was probably quite hypocritical to feel so outraged by it, since Clary constantly scolded him for the arrogant, condescending air he adopted whenever he had to explain something to someone less knowledgeable or clever than him – she was convinced that Maryse was hiding some secret younger siblings from him, her main arguments being that Alec just had this 'older brother' tone and Maryse's reluctance to talk about his father, or her past in general. Though Clary had stopped spouting those theories around his mother once Maryse had all but thrown her out of the house upon hearing them. After that, Alec had deemed it wiser not to ask why she never spoke about her life before they came to New York, or why there were no pictures of Alec from before his third birthday. Even though Maryse had apologized to Clary for her outburst the very next day, the deep-running sadness in her eyes barely concealed by rage had ingrained itself deeply in Alec's mind, and he'd do anything to keep from seeing it on his mother's face ever again.

 

"Ragnor, shut up and leave the boy alone. This is all new to him." Catarina didn't even look at her friend as she brushed him off, not taking her eyes off Alec, her smile still reassuring and a touch understanding. She might have looked harmless, but the way Ragnor immediately fell silent and started squirming in his seat at her command told Alec that he better not underestimate her.

 

"Now, back to what I was trying to explain." Her tone reminded Alec of the day Maryse had sat him down to give him 'The Talk'. Still shuddering at the memory, he desperately hoped this would turn out less humiliating. "The Shadow World. It's... I guess you could say split into Downworlders and Shadowhunters. We already covered that we" – she gestured at herself, Magnus and Ragnor – "are warlocks. The children of humans and demons." A flash of a predatory, toothy grin and the raging panic on a girl's face in a dark alley came to mind. Yeah, he had a pretty good guess at just how that sort of thing went down.

 

"Then there are the vampires, the werewolves and the fair folk. I guess thanks to popular culture and myths you'll have a vague idea what those are, though they are not quite what you probably imagine."

 

"Do they have some kind of demonic origin, too?" Alec asked, not averting his eyes from Catarina's patient gaze. The teeth of the boy at Pandemonium had definitely looked sharp enough to be considered fangs.

 

"Yes." Catarina smiled, the proud smile of a teacher whose student caught on fast. "Vampires and werewolves are humans that caught a demonic disease – most would kill someone with no demon blood of their own, but for some reason those two led to a transformation instead."

 

"That's fascinating! I wonder if anyone has done biological research on that. What does demon DNA even look like?" Alec felt more than heard Magnus chuckle next to him.

 

"Well, sweetcheeks, I guess that's hard to tell, considering most demons don't enter this world in their corporeal form. They also tend to disappear back into their own dimension without a trace when they're killed." The wave of relief flooding him at Magnus' use of endearments almost went unnoticed in the rush of curiosity and crackling excitement running through Alec, making him sit up straight again.

 

"But you wouldn't even need the DNA of an actual demon, now, would you? Of course it would make for a much more exact result, but you could probably draw at least some conclusions just by analyzing a warlock's DNA and comparing it to that of vampires and werewolves. Obviously, if it leads to a transformation the diseases causing vampirism and lycantrophy must work like viruses to some degree, integrating their own DNA into that of their hosts.

 

"That would mean they're probably much more similar to each other than to warlock DNA, since its demon parts are hereditary and not acquired... Assuming there are different types of demons, warlock DNA probably has an incredibly wide range and if you had a sufficient sample variety and compared it to the DNA of vampires and werewolves you could maybe even spot a basic structure of demon DNA, if there is such a thing, and maybe even tell apart which warlocks were fathered by which demon by their genetic material- Are there different kinds of magic? How much can the powers of an individual warlock differ? Is this power just a matter of practice, or is it mostly hereditary? Are your more... demonic traits sort of random mutations caused by the fusion of different DNAs or are they genetically predetermined? Like, I don't know, do all children of demon X have blue skin or horns or...?"

 

At that point, Alec stopped himself, trying to catch his breath. He waited for the typical reaction to his nerdy rants – a mix of annoyance paired with utter boredom and a look that just screamed 'Who cares?'. Looking around, however, he found that even Ragnor seemed to find his tendency to pose way too many questions way too fast when something roused his interest more amusing than anything, judging by his barely suppressed grin. Catarina looked rather intrigued, and Magnus was smiling fondly, something like adoration and amazement in his gaze that warmed Alec to the core.

 

"I've never looked at it from this point of view," he said, eyes wide and alight with the same excitement Alec still felt coursing through his veins. "This is a brilliant approach, actually. You've _got_ to teach me more about mundane evolution theory, I merely skimmed over the basic facts when it first came up in the 19th century – it seems I missed out on quite a bit by not looking into it further."

 

"I- I- Yes, s-sure," Alec stuttered, stumbling over his own words, blood rising to his cheeks again. The genuine interest in his theories threw him off so much that the fact that Magnus – who looked like he was maybe Alec's age – had just admitted to having been alive during the 19th century only dimly registered somewhere in the back of his mind. "I would love to learn more about this, too."

 

Their gazes locked and suddenly, he noticed just how close to him Magnus was sitting, leaning into Alec's personal space again. His breathing sped up at the proximity. Magnus was practically vibrating with excitement and it mixed with the heady rush of an ocean of new knowledge stretching out before him that was still sending tingles down Alec's spine, creating something akin to electricity between them. Pulse racing, Alec licked his lips, trying to ignore the way his blood was practically _singing_ with excitement and lust and triumph in order to keep from pulling Magnus against him and snogging his brains out.

 

Just when Alec started to lean in as well, about to throw all caution to the winds and just act on his desires, someone cleared their throat rather loudly, ruining the moment. Alec jumped and quickly averted his eyes, falling back into the couch's soft, blue cushions to bring some distance between them. He stared down at his feet, biting his lip to keep from blushing again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ragnor giving them a disapproving glare, though his lips twitched up in amusement for a second, making it that much less imposing.

 

"If you're done having eye sex over mundane science," Ragnor didn't even blink at the death glare Magnus was directing at him. "I think we were trying to explain the basics of the Shadow World to Blue Eyes."

 

"Right." Catarina awkwardly cleared her throat, trying to lift some of the tension. "Let's not get too much into detail right now. Just keep in mind that the Downworld consists of warlocks, vampires, werewolves and the fair folk – it would be best for you to stay away from all of them, but most of all the fairies. There are many stories about their origins, but whether they're the children of Heaven and Hell or not, they're as dangerous as they are beautiful and most of them are strangers to the human concept of mercy. They mostly keep to themselves, though, as long as you stay out of Central Park at night you shouldn't run into one of them."

 

"Unless Magnus invites you to one of his parties," Ragnor said, grinning at his friend. Alec was still trying to process the fact that there were fairies living in Central Park – the evidence that his mother had known of the Shadow World was adding up. She apparently knew a warlock, and she'd always brushed off Alec's wild stories with astounding ease, going along way too willingly... Maybe because it had all been real, after all.

 

"That might be a little too dangerous." Magnus gave Alec a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring but came out rather worried. "No matter how hard I try to keep the Moon Children and the Night Children apart, there's always casualties. I wouldn't want Alexander to be eaten by one of my guests."

 

Alec just blinked at him, head still reeling with his latest revelation. "Does that happen a lot?"

 

"Occasionally," Magnus said with a wave of his hand. "But don't worry, beautiful, I'd keep an eye on you if I ever were to invite you to one of my magnificent gatherings."

 

That didn't reassure Alec quite as much as Magnus had probably intended it to. Catarina quickly jumped in when Alec just stared, rendered speechless by the idea of willingly attending a party you would likely not leave alive. He'd never complain about Clary dragging him to some night club ever again.

 

"No need to worry about that just yet, we won't let Magnus drag you to one of his parties. That's enough about the Downworld for now, we can discuss your more detailed questions later. Now to the part that's more... relevant to your story.” Catarina closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “The Shadowhunters."

 

Alec furrowed his brow at her. "Why are they more relevant? I'd say the part about demons would be the most interesting one, considering I've been attacked twice by them."

 

Catarina shook her head at him, her eyes gentle. "Well, that, too. But the Nephilim pertain to you more. Because you, Alexander Lightwood, _are_ a Shadowhunter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alec as a biology nerd - who would have known? Certainly not me until I started typing it. I just took his enthusiasm for flying motorcycles and ran very far away with it. I'm not really sorry


	7. Chapter 7

"I- I- What?" Alec's hands flexed around the blanket he was holding onto like a lifeline, though his expression didn't betray any of the emotions currently running through him except for the disturbing pallor drawing the last bits of color from his already pale cheeks. He just stared blankly at Catarina, not moving at all, as if one wrong movement could make it all real and come crashing down around him. In Magnus' humble opinion he looked a bit like he was going into shock.

 

Carefully, he reached out to touch Alec's hand and, just as he had assumed, found it cold to the touch and worryingly clammy. The physical contact seemed to jolt Alec out of whatever train of thought he'd been lost in, though, his gaze suddenly much more focused again, his grip on the blanket loosening.

 

"You're wrong," he said, shaking his head as if he were trying to chase the very thought from his head. "Whatever the Shadowhunters even are, you're wrong. I'm just- I'm just Alec. Alec Turner, not Lightwood. I'm a completely normal, ordinary guy, not some supernatural being. The demon must have mistaken me for someone else- I was hanging out in a dark alley, after all, that's never a good idea. It's all just a big mistake, a misunderstanding. I should go home now." He was already in the process of peeling his blanket cocoon off of him when Magnus' hand on his wrist stopped him.

 

"Wait, Alexander. Just listen to what Catarina's going to tell you, okay? I promise it'll all make sense. And if it still doesn't, well, nothing stops you from walking right out of here and back home and never think of this conversation again. But I'd prefer it if you'd stay here and listen to her. Because it looks as if somebody's sending demons after you on purpose and I'd rather not have you leaving this apartment without knowing why and unable to defend yourself."

 

For a second, it looked as if Alec were about to protest, to just tear himself away from Magnus' grip and walk out regardless. Upon meeting Magnus' sincerely concerned gaze he deflated, though, sinking back into the pillows and gripping the blanket again, as if it could somehow shield him from what was to come.

 

"I have no idea how knowing that something's after me is going to help me defend myself, but go on. Knowledge is some kind of power, too, after all, right? At least I can prepare myself for being eaten by one descendant of hell or another that way." Alec tried to sound nonchalant about the prospect but his voice betrayed him, breaking on the very last syllable. He shook like a leaf, and not even a single sound of protest left his lips as Magnus pulled him into his side, wrapping an arm around his trembling shoulders.

 

"I'm not going to let anything eat you, okay? You're okay. Nothing can harm you here."

 

"Maybe not here," Alec whispered, burying his head in the juncture between Magnus' neck and shoulder. Their bodies fit together surprisingly comfortable in this position. "But I can hardly stay here forever."

 

"Well, you could. I certainly wouldn't mind." Alec chuckled weakly.

 

"Even then I would like to occasionally leave the house unsupervised, if you don't mind." Instead of a reply Magnus just soothingly rubbed the part of Alec's upper arm his hand had come to rest on, humming tunelessly as Alec kept taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

 

"We don't know for sure if anyone's targeted you to the point that you can't even leave the house safely any more, " Catarina said in an attempt to be reassuring.

 

"I highly doubt that anyone would go to the trouble of getting a Devrak demon on the track of the boy if they didn't want something from him." Ragnor crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at them. Catarina and Magnus turned to glare at him but he either didn't notice or he didn't care, it was hard to tell with him. Alec didn't mind, he himself had repeatedly been called too blunt in the past and he appreciated the cold harsh truth way more than euphemistic lies, anyway.

 

If someone had sent out demons to snatch him for some unknown reason he had a right to know, didn't he? How was he supposed to prepare himself for another attack like that – or another attack in general – if he didn't know what to expect? All trying to pretend he was living in a safe world that didn't include evil non-human beings with worrying denticles had gotten him so far was another, quite literal armful of demon.

 

"But what use am I to whoever sent it? Why am I so important to them that they even went to the trouble in the first place?"

 

Which reaction was supposed to make him more nervous, Ragnor's blinding grin, Catarina's concerned glance and wringing hands, or the way Magnus' grip on his arm tightened for a second and Alec could feel him go taut next to him?

 

"We assume it has something to do with your heritage," Catarina said after a few long, tense minutes of silence.

 

"You mean my alleged being a Shadowhunter?" Alec sat up a little straighter in his blanket cocoon, lips pressed in a tight line. "Because I still don't believe that for a second. I'm not some supernatural creature, I'm just a normal teenage boy who just graduated high school."

 

"And who just so happened to walk into two demons within the span of a few weeks?" Ragnor raised an eyebrow, the skepticism on his face practically palpable.

 

"It could be a coincidence." Alec didn't sound particularly convincing, even to his own ears. "The first attack was never meant for me, anyway."

 

"It may not have been meant for you," said Ragnor, looking straight into Alec's eyes. He seemed to be the only person in the room still able to meet his gaze for more than a second. "But it certainly wasn't a coincidence."

 

"It wasn't?" Now it was Alec's turn to raise an eyebrow, skepticism plain on his face.

 

"No. If you were an ordinary teenage boy just like you said you wouldn't be sitting here. You wouldn't remember a thing that looks like a human boy with too many teeth and claws to pass. Your mind would have processed it as some crazy rapist and nothing else. You wouldn't so easily accept that a demon attacked you, you'd insist it was some rabid dog. You'd never have noticed Magnus' eyes, or at least not that they were anything but a pair of perfectly normal, human eyes." Alec just blinked at Ragnor's satisfied expression, trying to process everything that was going on without having a nervous breakdown.

 

"How?"

 

"The human mind adjusts," Ragnor said with a shrug, not seeming the least bit baffled by the concept that a good deal of the people he passed by on the street every day had a completely different perception of the world surrounding him. One that was most ironically more peaceful and safer despite how war-torn and crime-ridden it was. Or apparently just accepted everything that crossed the border as just another part of a statistic. Alec wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified that some of the horrible things humanity chalked up to itself were most likely actually the work of something far more sinister than even the darkest depths of the human mind could hope to be.

 

"They see what they want to see. In order to keep their picture of how the world works intact. The brain protects itself," he whispered, awestruck as so many times before by the complicated workings of the human brain and mind.

 

"Exactly." Ragnor grinned at him. "And if you were actually human, my friend, you'd either have been born with the Sight or your brain would be doing a really shitty job."

 

"The Sight?"

 

"The ability to see past the glamours, those that help the mundanes keep the charade up. Why am I explaining every little detail to him now? Catarina, this is your job." Ragnor glared at her, the corners of his mouth turning down into a scowl as she just waved him off.

 

"You're doing a brilliant job so far, why don't you keep going?"

 

With a grimace, Ragnor did as he was told. "If you insist. Anyway, Blue Eyes-" "My name isn't Blue Eyes, it's Alec." "I know and I don't care. To get to the point, you're _not_ a mundane born with the Sight, you're a Shadowhunter. And before you say anything, let me word this with your beloved genetics: Whatever gene or other part of your biological make-up that makes you a Shadowhunter is dominant. The children of Shadowhunters are _always_ Shadowhunters, too, no matter what the other half of their parents may be. And your parents are _definitely_ both Shadowhunters."

 

"How do you know? I have no idea what my father even looks like, or what his name is. How do you know he's a Shadowhunter, whatever that means?"

 

"Because _we_ know your father a lot better than we'd ever have cared to. And his name is Robert. Robert Lightwood."

 

"Lightwood? You called me that before." Alec's gaze shifted away from Ragnor and back to Catarina.

 

"It's your rightful name. You would go by Alexander Lightwood if things had been less... let's say complicated," she said, biting her bottom lip a little before catching herself and offering a small, reassuring smile.

 

"What do you mean, complicated? And what happened to my father? Every time I tried to ask my mom about it she'd just shut down and change the topic."

 

"One step at a time, young Nephilim. It'd probably be wisest to explain what you and your parents are before we get into the details," said Ragnor before Catarina could even open her mouth to reply, smug grin in place.

 

"Right," Alec said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "So, what are those Shadowhunters? And why did you call me a Nephilim?"

 

"Because they are one and the same, Blue Eyes. Shadowhunters, Nephilim. Said to be half human, half angel, the blood of Raziel running in their veins. There are as many legends about their origin as there are about any origin, but the one they like to pride themselves with the most is that a thousand years ago, Earth was run over by an especially awful and apocalyptic demon invasion, so Jonathan Shadowhunter somehow convinced a warlock to summon the Angel Raziel for him – God only knows why that guy went along with it. The world would really have to be on the very verge of being extinguished before I'd even think about trying that. And all that trouble only to get absolutely no recognition by the very uppity, holier-than-thou bastards he helped create. I hope he was at least paid decently."

 

"Ragnor."

 

"Yeah, right, I'm getting off on a tangent. Back to the point. So, for some unfathomable reason the warlock actually went along with Shadowhunter's brain dead, suicidal plan and summons Raziel. Lucky for both of them the Angel was either in a very good mood or was actually getting worried about the situation as well – which is never a good sign because angels are not easily worried. Or prone to any kind of emotion, really. Either way, Raziel filled a cup with his blood and told Jonathan to drink it and that it would give him the power to fight off the demons. Being the suicidal nutjob he was, he of course drank it, became a Shadowhunter and made his equally dim-witted friends do the same.

“So there they were with a little angel blood in their veins, a few runes to strengthen them in fight and a handful of cute weapons against a whole demon army. They somehow managed not to get killed on the spot and ever since the Nephilim have declared it their task to live by the rules given to them by the angel and stand between the demons trying to enter this world and those that cannot see them or protect themselves. Which, in itself, isn't such a bad thing, no matter how suicidal a mission it may be, if it weren't for the fact that most Shadowhunters are arrogant bastards who think they're better than everyone else for what they do and what they are."

 

Alec frowned at him. "My mom isn't like that."

 

"Well, maybe not any more," Ragnor said with a shrug. "But back when I knew her, when she was still one of them? One of the worst there was, I'm telling you. Along with your father. The Lightwoods had even more of a family tradition of being arrogant, pretentious bastards than the Truebloods."

 

"The Truebloods?" Alec instinctively turned his questioning gaze to Catarina.

 

"Trueblood is your mother's maiden name. She originally wanted to return to it when she went into hiding with you, but it still stood out too much, so we just leafed through the telephone book and looked for something common enough not to betray your Shadowhunter origins. She picked Turner because it seemed fitting." Catarina's calm gaze was locked on Alec's. She had finally stopped wringing her hands and her features had relaxed a bit, the small smile on her face looking a bit less forced and tense. It still didn't do much to alleviate the anxiety Alec felt building up in his stomach, making it hard to breathe and causing his heart to race as if he were still in the alley with the Devrak.

 

"How do you know all that? You said 'we', does that mean you helped her go into hiding? Hiding from what? Why is she no longer 'one of them' and if we're really Shadowhunters, why did she never tell me? What promise were you talking about?"

 

Magnus' hand, now resting on Alec's shoulder, tightened its grip as if to keep him from jumping up and pacing the room. Alec only struggled against it for a few seconds before he sank back into the cushions with a resigned sigh, directing a betrayed look at the shapeless lump of blanket where his legs were hidden. Frustrated, he pressed his lips together until they were nothing but a straight, white line and fixed Catarina with a stare that would hopefully urge her to answer his many, many questions.

 

"Okay." Catarina sighed, looking at Ragnor as if she were hoping he'd take the task of telling Alec's story from her. Ragnor merely raised an eyebrow at her and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his armchair expectantly. "This will take a while, it's a long story, but I promise it will answer all your questions. Chronologically, even." She took another deep breath and started.

 

"When Ragnor said your parents were among the worst of those arrogant and superior-acting Shadowhunters? He wasn't lying. I think a lot of it really was prejudice passed on, they both came from families with a long tradition of Shadowhunting. Either way, they weren't just arrogant. They were deeply convinced that Downworlders were so infinitely inferior to them they shouldn't even be considered human beings any more, that the part of them that was demonic eradicated everything else until they were no better than demons. They belonged to the sadly huge percentage of Shadowhunters who were genuinely sad that the Covenant and Accords forbid them to kill Downworlders who didn't do any wrong."

 

"I thought they were supposed to protect those that can't defend themselves, not kill everything remotely demonic and judge who's human or not? And what is the Covenant? What Accords?"

 

"In principle. But some Downworlders misuse their powers against mundanes, or start killing at random, and a lot of Shadowhunters take that as proof that we're all evil. It's a good excuse to get rid of all of us – our powers make them uncomfortable, anyway, even though they gladly employ our services whenever it's convenient for them. The Covenant is the law the Shadowhunters live by, their moral code, so to say. Unfortunately, it doesn't legally recognize Downworlders as human beings or gives them any protection from Shadowhunters. Before the Accords were first signed over a century ago, no one cared to bring Shadowhunters who brutally killed Downworlders for no reason to justice. To some it was a sport, even, and it was fairly common practice to take a token from a Downworlder kill – the fangs of a vampire or werewolf, the mark of a warlock. When the victim's loved ones sought revenge, they had to face the same fate as the one they had come to avenge.

“We weren't willing to accept that state of unofficial war any more, and more and more Downworlders showed themselves willing to get over their blind hatred and try their hand at peaceful negotiations with the saner representatives of the Nephilim instead. The Shadowhunters weren't exactly forthcoming and they're not particularly quick to adapt their world views or laws, but eventually all four Downworlder races and the Nephilim managed to negotiate the Accords and thus a rather unstable peace between them.

"Of course there were opponents on both sides, but the majority stood behind the Accords so there wasn't too much upheaval. A lot of the older Shadowhunter families refused to change their ways, though, and passed on their prejudice for generations. Both your parents came from such families and when a young, skilled Shadowhunter by the name of Valentine started gathering followers supporting his plans to overtake the corrupt and backward Clave, the government of the Nephilim, they were easy prey. It didn't help matters that they were close friends with Valentine. They continued to support him even as his ideas grew more and more radical, until he was arguing that all Downworlders should be killed 'to keep the Earth pure for humanity'. They only changed their minds when Valentine and his followers attacked the Downworlder representatives during the resigning of the Accords – we'd had an informant who'd told us all about Valentine's plan, so we weren't unprepared, and he even managed to rope in quite a few Shadowhunters to help us fight Valentine's followers.

"When your parents realized that they would either die or end up in front of the Clave, which could just as easily have meant death for them considering their crimes, they fled. I found your mother hiding with you in the Lightwood's house in Alicante when I was sent there after the battle to retrieve any documents that might be helpful in identifying other members of Valentine's Circle, as your parents had been two of his highest-ranking soldiers. I don't know for sure what happened to your father, all Maryse could ever tell me was that he'd grabbed your younger sister and fled. All I know is that I helped her hide that night. We sneaked out of the city, which was thankfully still too busy with the aftermath of the Uprising to be heavily guarded, and I opened a portal for you two and let you hide in my apartment in New York until all had been dealt with in Alicante. After my return I helped set her up and keep you from being found by the Clave or other Circle members gone into hiding or Downworlders seeking revenge. And here we are."

 

For a while, Alec just sat stock-still, staring blankly at the floor to his feet. He would have protested against the very idea of his mother having been a ruthless killer but all he could see in his mind were the steely expression in her icy blue eyes, the barely visible scars she was covered in from head to toe which she'd always refused to talk about – Alec had always assumed it might have been a horrible accident or a gang or cult thing she didn't want him to know about, which was sort of true, come to think of it – and the fact that she never talked about her life previous to moving to New York with Alec. He had no idea where or if she'd gone to college, where she'd grown up or met his father, what happened to him or his grandparents, nothing. The thought that Maryse and her way of handling any given situation reminded him more of a soldier than a restaurant manager had actually crossed his mind quite often, even before any of this. His protests thus silenced by his own brain, he focused on the parts of Catarina's story that didn't match up for him.

 

"What do you mean, younger sister? I don't have any siblings! Did you ever find out what happened to my father? And if my mom really was like that, why did you help her?"

 

Catarina shook her head, a soft smile on her lips, her eyes sad as she met his gaze. "She promised she'd never return to her old life. Not that she could have, even if she'd wanted to. She had to hide from both sides now and- I'm sure you noticed that your mother is a very proud woman. She wouldn't have begged a Downworlder for her own life, but she did for yours. We didn't know what would have happened to her if I had handed her over to the Clave, what would have happened to _you_. We signed a contract, she swore she'd never raise a hand against a Downworlder ever again, that she'd stop being a Shadowhunter, that she'd keep you as far from the Shadow World as possible. And that she wouldn't pass her prejudice on to you. She signed in blood, which means a lot when you sign a contract with a warlock. She was bound to it, she literally couldn't have told you, even if she'd wanted to."

 

Alec just nodded. He could see the logic in keeping him away from that world. It seemed incredibly dangerous and apparently, a bunch of people he'd only just heard about for the first time would just love to end his life for no other reason than his parents' identities. His mother and Catarina's attempts at keeping him safe from that might have failed, spectacularly so, but he appreciated the intention behind them. Still, that didn't answer his other questions.

 

"So you don't know what happened to my father and my... sister?" He'd owe Clary _so_ much if it turned out he actually did have a secret younger sibling... He'd never live that one down. Catarina looked away from him.

 

"No, sadly we don't. We tried tracing where he'd gone from Alicante but we never even found so much as a clue as to where he'd fled to after he'd passed the borders. They just... disappeared. I've never been able to find whoever helped him escape. They couldn't possibly have made it past the additional wards without a warlock's help."

 

"Well, I wouldn't have made a great announcement either if I'd helped hide Robert Lightwood of all people," Ragnor said with a huff. There was no real acid behind it and his eyes were soft, so Alec didn't take it too personally. After all, he didn't even know his father or his sister, so why be indignant on their behalf if he couldn't even bring himself to be upset on his mother's?

 

Alec had always known that the secrets Maryse had kept from him probably wouldn't turn out to be fluffy and harmless. Like Alec, she usually had a tendency to be straightforward to a fault, though unlike her son she was also perfectly capable of lying right to your face without you being any wiser. But Alec was so fine-tuned to his mother that he'd started catching her lies at the age of eight – the fast rhythm of her fingers tapping against the nearest surface, so much more erratic than when it was a gesture of impatience, the way her tone turned colder and more steely than even boiling rage could achieve, how her already perfect posture became rigid; something would always give her away to the trained eye. And she'd always lie to him whenever he'd ask about her past. Never about anything else, especially not anything important – there'd been a few months back in middle school when money had been awfully tight, and she'd never made an effort to hide it from Alec. In fact, she'd merely sat him down and explained what was going on. Admittedly, she'd pulled a face as if she'd been biting into a lemon during the whole conversation but she _had_ swallowed her pride and told him the truth instead of trying to hide it from him. With everything he'd learned just now he was tempted to assume that maybe his mother had thought that one huge lie standing between them was more than enough.

 

When Alec focused back on the other people in the room after deciding that getting lost in speculations wouldn't help anyone, he noticed that all eyes were on him, staring expectantly, probably waiting for some kind of reaction. Alec wasn't sure all that information had registered enough to evoke one.

 

"I'm okay," he said, shaking his head in an attempt to chase away the scattered thoughts whirling in his brain. "It's all just a little much to take in at once."

 

"Would you like one of us to bring you home? Familiar environments often help with letting new information sink in," said Catarina, watching him concernedly.

 

Alec shook his head. "No, not just yet. I'm not sure I can confront my mom about this right now. And I think letting everything sink in might be a lot easier here with you than alone in my treacherously ordinary-looking bedroom, anyway."

 

Even Ragnor offered him a smile that could almost be called welcoming and Alec let himself sink a little deeper into Magnus' arm around his shoulder. He felt strangely safe here – maybe because of the questionable, instinctive trust he had in Magnus that was probably entirely based on overwhelming physical attraction because what other grounds could it have, really? But they _had_ explained everything to him rather patiently when they could have just sent him home and either let him remain clueless and most likely soon-to-be-dead or leave the task of revealing the truth to his mother. Who, if Alec knew her at all, wouldn't be particularly eager to talk about it even now that Alec was in the know, and understandably so. That was if-

 

"Hey, Catarina?" Catarina immediately turned around, her full attention on him. "Now that I know about the Shadow World the part of the contract that doesn't allow Mom to talk about it to me is void, right?" She laughed a little.

 

"Yes, Alec, that part is void. I'm pretty sure an in-depth conversation with your mother can't be avoided any longer, at this point. But I doubt Maryse will be very willing to have it. She won't be happy that you found out at all, much less about the reason we had to tell you. Or the fact that we don't know who exactly it is that is after you."

 

"I'm not particularly happy about that, either," Alec said softly, burying deeper into his blanket cocoon and Magnus' side as if they could protect him from the crazy mess his life had become in the span of a few weeks.

 

"Neither am I," Magnus murmured next to him, tightening his grip on Alec's shoulder and tugging him a little closer still. "But I promise you we'll do our best to find whoever it is and stop them."

At this, Alec peeked out from under his makeshift blanket fort to look directly at Magnus for the first time in quite a while.

 

"You don't have to," he said quietly, smiling a little when Magnus just looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "You're not responsible for me just because Catarina helped out my mom years ago."

 

"If you think I'm letting anyone maul your pretty face just because we haven't known each other long enough to be considered friends you're wrong. I'd like to eventually get to the point where I _can_ consider us friends, and how would I get to know you better if someone kills you first?" For the first time since he'd put it there Magnus removed his arm from around Alec's shoulder, only to cross both arms over his chest and give Alec an Oscar-worthy pout. He looked ridiculously indignant over the fact that Alec would even _consider_ it far-fetched to get involved with unknown, most likely not well-meaning forces to keep a stranger he'd met less than a handful times safe. Or anything Magnus wouldn't be one hundred percent willing to do. Alec just shook his head.

 

"You're unbelievable."

 

"I know." The grin Magnus shot him was positively frightening. "I've been told so multiple times. Mostly in rather different circumstances and with a _very_ different emphasis but we'll get there."

 

Catarina groaned and buried her head in her hands, mumbling something along the lines of "I can't believe I'm friends with you." Ragnor nodded emphatically, expression long-suffering and exasperated in equal measures. Alec had a hard time suppressing his chuckle and was completely unsuccessful in keeping the vibrant blush across his cheeks and down his neck from spreading. Magnus just leered at them for another moment before returning to a more somber expression.

 

"I'm being serious, Alexander. Regardless of how little I know them or how much I want them in my bed, I wouldn't turn anyone in your situation down. After we've already gone to so much trouble to save your life we can't just lean back and stay out of it and watch you die. Now, _that_ would be a wasted effort."

 

Alec just rolled his eyes at him. "If you're really so eager to get into this mess for a complete stranger, go ahead. I'm not going to stop you from helping save my life." He chuckled. "Just try to stay safe? I don't want anyone hurt on my account."

 

Ragnor almost fell out of his armchair as he doubled over with mirth. "Oh please," he wheezed between bursts of barking laughter, trying to catch his breath enough to actually speak. "As if. Rushing head first into danger without thinking about the consequences because he's a sentimental fool is the Bane way of life. I don't know how he survived this long, probably because we hang around and clean up his messes. A black-haired boy with a pretty face and blue eyes he knows next to nothing about with a mysterious past, dragging him into a twisted, potentially lethal mess? It's his idea of a wet dream."

 

"Ragnor!" Catarina got out of her armchair to give him a scolding hit over the head, crossing her arms and giving him a disapproving glare that had Magnus and Alec huddling together even though neither of them was at fault. "Can't you stay serious for a minute?" She turned to Alec, her glare softening into a smile when he instinctively flinched back a little. "Don't worry about it, Alec. We'll be careful and I'll make sure Magnus doesn't do anything stupid-" "Hey!" "and I'm sure we'll find whoever is after you soon. Nothing's going to happen to either of us and you really shouldn't listen to anything Ragnor says." She offered Ragnor a disturbingly blinding smile and dropped back into her seat, Ragnor scowling after her and Magnus still pouting.

 

"Just for your information, I never do anything stupid," he said, sounding so indignantly defensive Alec immediately decided not to believe a word he said right then. "I sometimes make rather rash decisions, I'll give you that. But I always have everyone's best interest at heart and proceed with care."

 

Ragnor snorted. "If 'everyone's best interest' is no other than your own, maybe."

 

"You continue to spew your blasphemy in my home and we'll see who'll have to book a hotel next time he's in New York," said Magnus under his breath, at last directing his pout away from Catarina.

 

"Do you three ever not bicker when you're in a room together for more than five minutes?" Alec asked, barely suppressing a chuckle as he looked back and forth between the three warlocks.

 

"If at least one of us is unconscious and that person is either Magnus or Ragnor," Catarina said, not bothering to keep her laughter in. "You haven't seen us at our best, at least Magnus and me are trying to behave a bit around you."

 

"Oh, don't bother for my sake. I find it entertaining. I don't- well, apparently I do have siblings I didn't know about, but I didn't grow up with them. And while I like to bicker with my friends every now and then, too, it's not half as amusing." Alec beamed at her, promptly followed by more retching noises from Ragnor.

 

"Could you please not look like you're melting into a puddle of goo every time that kid so much as smiles, Magnus? It's making me sick."

 

"Well, no one forces you to be here," Magnus said with a huff, quickly averting his eyes from where they had been clearly hanging onto Alec's lips to give his friend a condescending look.

 

"You two really can't stop for two seconds." Catarina rolled her eyes and got up out of her armchair once more. "Alec, can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate? I'd feel better if you had something warm in your stomach before we bring you home to your mother."

 

"Tea would be nice. I think my nerves could use something soothing right about now," Alec said with a small smile, his eyes flicking back to Magnus the second Catarina was out of his line of sight.

 

"Well, if you have any more urgent questions, now would be the time to ask." Magnus grinned at him and Alec felt his own smile widen in response and blood rising to his cheeks again. Alec hoped the blush wasn't as blatantly obvious as he feared, his skin definitely felt less hot than when Magnus had flirted with him. Questions and satisfying his endless curiosity he could do. Social interaction with someone who had made it glaringly obvious that they wanted to have sex with him? Not so much.

 

"Why were you in that alley?"

 

"Which alley? You need to be a bit more precise than that, darling. We seem to have developed an awful habit of meeting in dark alleys with demons involved."

 

"The first one. Behind Pandemonium. Not that I don't appreciate your impeccable timing, but it strikes me as a bit odd."

 

"Well, sweetness, I don't think I need to repeat that you caught my eye. I kept looking out for you and the next time I saw you you were fighting your way through the crowd looking oddly determined. And not in the way most clubbers look at their potential sex partners, more as if you'd seen something horrifying and were set on keeping the worst from happening. Of course I'd heard the rumors about what goes on behind Pandemonium most nights and I'd mostly been there out of curiosity, anyway, since everything pointed toward demon activity... I followed you out, and I think we can both agree that that was a wise decision."

 

"Thank you.” Alec held Magnus' gaze unflinchingly without so much as a trace of a blush for the first time since he'd woken up – or probably ever, if he was being honest.

 

"What for, darling?" Magnus seemed taken by surprise, like Alec couldn't have said anything he'd have expected less.

 

"For saving my life. I don't think I've thanked you until now. You didn't have to, either time. So, thank you."

 

Magnus just blinked at him, obviously still perplexed. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure but the smile that spread on his face when he did, though perhaps not the biggest, had to be the most sincere one he'd offered Alec so far. It was so strikingly beautiful Alec felt his breath catch in his throat as he just kept staring wordlessly.

 

"Why, it's my pleasure." Magnus didn't look away from him and somehow, those handful words sounded as sincere as that smile looked. Not that Alec suspected that anything else Magnus had said so far – when it wasn't a playful remark to get a rise out of someone – hadn't been honest and heartfelt. But even though the sentence in itself didn't really say anything it still felt as meaningful as the revelation that Alec wasn't fully human. Alec hardly noticed Catarina returning to the living room with their tea until Ragnor cut through whatever trance Magnus and Alec had been caught in, as he seemed to have made his job.

 

"Catarina, you might want to come back later. I think you're interrupting something. It looks as if they've progressed from eye sex over mundane science to disgustingly mushy staring contests now. Never mind that I'm still in the room."

 

Catarina didn't deem that comment worthy of a reaction, just placed the tray she was carrying on the coffee table and handed Alec a huge mug of still steaming tea.

 

"I didn't ask what you wanted but I thought a bit good old-fashioned chamomile wouldn't hurt, considering," she said, offering him a friendly smile.

 

"Thank you," Alec said quietly as he accepted the mug, grateful for the warmth seeping into the skin of his palms. He couldn't help but notice that it didn't hold quite the meaning it had earlier, regardless of the fact that one had been addressing saving his life and the other a mere friendly gesture.

 

"Catarina healed you, you know," Magnus said unprompted, as if he'd been reading Alec's mind. Or maybe he was just that transparent. His mother always told him that he was an open book to everyone willing to read.

 

"You did?" said Alec, his smile softening as he looked up into her kind eyes.

 

"Not worth mentioning," she said with a diminishing wave of her hand. "It's my job after all."

 

Alec cocked his head to the side inquisitively.

 

"I work as a nurse," said Catarina, returning to her seat with her own cup. "I always like to think that my time is better spent stitching up mundanes and occasionally helping someone who otherwise wouldn't have survived than it would be if I made a living brewing potions and running after ridiculous Downworlders."

 

"Your patients do tend to be much more grateful, even if they have no clue what exactly you did for them," Magnus said with a sigh, carefully blowing on his own steaming cup. Alec's lips twitched up into a smile.

 

They sipped their tea in silence after that. Alec took his sweet time but soon enough he felt all eyes in the room on his every swallow. With a heavy sigh, he lowered the mug from his lips, clutching it with both hands in his lap instead.

 

"You'll make me leave as soon as this mug is empty, aren't you?"

 

"You can't avoid home forever, Alec," Catarina said softly, smiling at him over the rim of her own cup. "We're by no means kicking you out and I'd like to check you over one last time just to make sure before you go. But you'll have to go eventually, and putting it off too long isn't going to make that particular conversation with your mother any easier."

 

"Probably not," Alec said with another sigh, carefully leaning back into the cushions so he didn't spill any of his remaining tea. "I'm just not looking forward to it. Actually, I'm rather comfortable right here."

 

"Oh, you're welcome anytime, Alexander darling," said Magnus, laughing quietly. "But I have to admit, I'd prefer it if you'd make yourself comfortable on my couch with me for reasons other than post-demon attack exhaustion and a blatant refusal to face your own mother."

 

"It's a really comfortable couch," Alec protested weakly, lifting his mug back to his mouth and smiling into his tea as his words got a chuckle out of Magnus and a snort out of Ragnor.

 

"Up with you," Magnus said with a smile as soon as Alec had downed the last sip, disentangling himself from Alec and his blanket cocoon to help him get free. With another resigned sigh, Alec gave up and unwound the blanket from around his frame. He let Magnus pull him up, only swaying on his legs for a second before he regained his balance this time. Catarina joined them to do a quick check-up on Alec that involved delightful white sparks and a warm feeling trickling down his spine and into his toes and fingertips. Once she'd deemed him ready to go she pulled him into a quick hug. Alec nodded at Ragnor on his way out, Magnus trailing behind him. Alec assumed that he'd accompany him to the door, startling a bit when he noticed Magnus was putting his shoes and jacket on as well. Magnus caught on to his surprise, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

 

"You didn't really think I'd just let you saunter home on your own after what happened today?"

 

"I'm not five, I don't need someone to hold my hand to make my way home," Alec mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush to his horror. Great, now he didn't just sound like a petulant kid, he also looked like one.

 

"Oh, believe me, Alexander, I'm very well aware that you're not five." Magnus' grin was positively predatory. "Still, just because you now know that demons exist doesn't make you any more prepared to fight them and I'd rather not take the risk. It would diminish my heroic efforts to save your life if you died not five hours later."

 

Alec chuckled and stopped resisting. They were quiet on the way to Alec's house and Alec forced himself not to think too much about the fact that he was pressed as closely to Magnus' side as he could without keeping them from actually getting anywhere, both during the parts they walked and those they took the subway for. He felt a little ridiculous for gluing himself to Magnus like that, but then again, if the events of that day didn't warrant an excuse for a bit of healthy paranoia, what did? Magnus didn't seem to mind and as long as they stayed silent Alec could keep telling himself that he was only inching so close because the memory of poisonous spines sinking deep into his arm was way more vivid than he'd like for it to be.

 

Just as they'd arrived in front of the door to Alec and Maryse's apartment and Magnus forwent Alec's outstretched hand in favor of a hug, mumbling something along the lines of handshaking being way too formal for a parting after saving someone's life – which, personally, Alec thought was about as horrible an excuse as his 'only in case of demon attacks' mantra as he'd walked much closer to Magnus than even paranoia would necessarily warrant – said door swung open to reveal an anything but pleased looking Maryse Lightwood.

 

"Alexander, care to explain why you're hugging Magnus Bane on our doorstep?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone only stumbling upon this here: You may have noticed that up until here everything was posted in the same day. Well, you're hereby informed that from here on out it's life-time updates, aka chapter 8 isn't even written at this point. I hope you'll enjoy anyway!


	8. Chapter 8

"Um..." said Alec, standing frozen in shock, arms still around Magnus. "It's kind of a long story?"

 

"I'd think so," Maryse said coldly, looking back and forth between her guiltily shifting son and the smug grin on Magnus' face.

 

"Now, now, Maryse. No need to be hostile. I was just bringing Alec home and I was about to leave, so we said goodbye."

 

"An oddly intimate goodbye, Bane, considering that my son shouldn't even _know_ you to begin with." Alec was almost surprised there wasn't actual frost on the doorknob from all the ice in Maryse's tone.

 

"But why would you want to deprive him of something as delightful as my acquaintance? You've got to admit that I've always been the life of every party." The grin on Magnus' face was bordering on challenging now and Alec briefly wondered if he had a death wish. His love of danger couldn't get so far as to deliberately anger Maryse, not if he'd apparently lived for a few centuries. There had to be _some_ instinct for self-preservation under all the glitter and stylish clothes.

 

"Thankfully, Alexander has never been drawn to your kind of parties. And I'd prefer for it to stay that way." Maryse crossed her arms over her chest, her tone final – as far as she was concerned it seemed the conversation was over. She'd also made it rather obvious that she wasn't just talking about Alec knowing someone looking and acting like Magnus well enough to hug goodbye. Alec could practically see the layers of meaning implied in those two sentences, they were almost palpable in her voice.

 

Magnus' smile dropped and his whole body language became more rigid, more serious. "I fear it might be a little too late for that, Maryse." His tone was neutral and calm but Alec interpreted the way his muscles tensed right after he got the words out – as if he were bracing himself for the brunt of her potentially violent reaction – as a sign of nervousness. Even Magnus seemed to have a healthy dose of apprehension upon being the bringer of such bad news.

 

For a moment, Maryse just stared at him. Her eyes flicked to Alec and when she saw the same look of nervous anticipation on his face, she tensed as well.

 

"Alexander?" Just the way she said his name made it sound like an interrogation.

 

"Mom." Alec swallowed reflexively, trying not to look too caught but instinctively starting to bite at his bottom lip. It was an awful habit that always gave him away. But it really wasn't his fault someone had targeted him and was sending demons after him. He hadn't stepped into this whole mess on purpose. In fact, he would prefer going back to blissful ignorance if only someone would offer him that option.

 

Maryse heaved a deep sigh, stepping aside a little so Alec could walk past her into the apartment. Her glare turned seamlessly back to Magnus.

 

"Thank you for bringing him home safely. I don't think we require your services any longer, Warlock Bane." She didn't sound the least bit grateful. In fact, she had managed to imply 'leave' so heavily in her formal apology, she might as well have shouted it. Magnus just rolled his eyes – Alec wasn't sure if he should admire him for his brazenness in the face of Maryse's clear annoyance or if he should be genuinely concerned for his sanity.

"Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted. Not that I usually care too much. Alexander, I'll see you around." He smiled broadly at Alec and gave him a small wave, merrily ignoring Maryse's glower as he practically skipped down the stairs. Alec hurried to get out of his shoes and jacket and into the living room before she could turn her death glare on him.

 

By the time Maryse followed him into the room, he was already making a valid attempt at disappearing into the couch, still worrying at his lip and doing his best not to look guilty in the least. Going by the unimpressed look she gave him for his efforts he was failing miserably. She sat down in the armchair to Alec's right in what might as well have been slow motion, her eyes never leaving his face. It was both unnerving and terrifying and Alec could feel himself starting to sweat under his sweater. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, painfully aware that his reaction didn't really make things look better for him.

 

"Right now would be a good time for the long story of how you came to hug the High Warlock of Brooklyn on our doorstep." Maryse's face was carefully blank and no help whatsoever in deciding what the best course of action would be.

 

Instead of making things easier for himself and just telling her everything, Alec found himself blurting out the first thing that came to his mind. "Why did you call him a warlock in front of me? Just because we were hugging goodbye didn't necessarily mean I knew what he was."

 

"The fact that I could say it in front of you at all was proof enough that that wasn't the case, though, wasn't it?" Maryse raised an eyebrow at him, still decidedly unimpressed.

 

"Probably." Alec sighed, letting himself sink further into the cushions – they were much less comfortable than Magnus' blue fluffy monstrosity of a couch, making it that much more difficult to be swallowed up by them. It might not have been the most heroic impulse, to want to crawl into the sofa never to be seen again under Maryse's sharp, unrelenting gaze – but then again Alec had never claimed to be particularly heroic.

 

"Now, do I have to drag the story out of you or are you going to tell me on your own?"

 

Alec took a deep breath, nodded, and started to talk. He tried to keep things as short and to the point as possible, generously leaving out how ridiculously attracted to Magnus he was and exactly how much space he and his intriguing cat eyes had taken up in Alec's thoughts over the least few weeks. He also doubted Maryse would be particularly interested in finding out that Magnus smelled of sandalwood. And he definitely didn't want her to know that the warlock had made it more than obvious that he wanted into Alec's pants – she already seemed to hate him enough as it was, no need to make them antagonize each other even more.

 

When he finally got to the point when he'd come back home, Alec felt almost more apprehensive than when Maryse had first opened the door. She had sat through his account of the last few weeks – with heavy emphasis on the last few hours – with a perfect and actually really impressive poker face in place, not a single muscle even so much as twitching to indicate any kind of emotion. Alec didn't have the slightest clue what she was thinking or what to expect. Which was why it took him completely off-guard when, after what had to be the most tense moment of anticipatory silence in his whole life, Maryse was out of her seat and next to him on the couch faster than he could blink, almost violently tugging him into her arms.

 

Stunned and slightly confused, Alec hesitantly patted her hair. It felt good to be surrounded by her familiar, comforting scent and warmth after the day he'd had. He hadn't realized how much he'd craved a hug from his mother until now. "Mom?"

 

"God, Alec," Maryse said softly as she pulled away just enough to look at him. To Alec's utter horror there were tears in her eyes. He couldn't recall a single occasion of having seen her cry before today. "I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but I'm happy Magnus and Catarina found you."

 

Alec sucked in a relieved breath and offered her a small smile. "Yeah, that was impeccable timing." She didn't smile back. Perhaps it was a bit early for relief.

 

"Are you sure you're okay? You don't feel dizzy or hot or cold?" She was reaching up to check his temperature and Alec indulged her for a few seconds before gently pulling her hand away by the wrist.

 

He could clearly feel her bones underneath his fingertips, but to call Maryse Turner – Lightwood? Trueblood? – fragile would be the equivalent to calling a wild lioness harmless – a stupid mistake you'd only make once. She had a core of steel, one look at her eyes was enough to make that much clear to anyone. And Alec didn't need to be told she'd been trained to kill demons most of her life to know she could take care of herself no matter the threat – there wasn't a single form of martial arts Maryse hadn't indulged in over the past fifteen years. He'd always secretly thought that the real reason behind her never really staying with anything for long was that the instructors were always a little bit scared of her.

 

"I'm fine, Mom. Catarina screened me right before I left." Maryse huffed at him.

 

"I know, it's just..."

 

"You don't trust her?" Alec raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You do know she's the only reason we're even here right now, right?"

 

Alec almost regretted his words when Maryse just sagged into the cushions, boneless, as if all the fight had gone out of her.

 

"Believe me, I'm painfully aware. I wish it were different. Not because she's a warlock!" she hurried to add when Alec scowled at her. "It's not about that. I had a lot of time to get over my prejudice, and a lot of help from Downworlders who would have had every right to hand me to the Clave instead, over the years. But I still don't like knowing you're around them. I may not have left my old life by choice, but I can't deny that, as a mother, it makes me feel a lot more at ease to know my son will be safe and healthy for a long time, not dying a honorable but very likely early death."

 

"Is that really what life's like, for the Shadowhunters?" Alec asked. Maryse gave him a melancholy little smile and turned her head to stare unseeingly at the wall opposite from them. Alec followed her gaze but there was nothing to behold on the plain white wallpaper, apart from the small brown stain from the 2003 Coca-Cola Incident. They'd had to lay a new carpet, but the wall had mostly been spared and Simon and Clary still insisted that it had been totally worth it, even though all three of them had been grounded for weeks and Alec hadn't taken so much as a single sip of soda since. He'd have thought he was the only one that had actually drawn a lesson from that memorable experience if it hadn't been for the fact that the very next day, Simon and Clary had – in a suspicious bout of generosity – given out every last mint of their rather impressive shared Mentos stash to their classmates to never touch them again.

 

"But you still miss it," Alec said, more statement than question, forcing himself to focus back on the topic at hand. Escaping into fond reminiscing wouldn't make this conversation any easier or less inevitable. "Will you tell me about it, now that you can? I know you don't like talking about it, but I don't think I understand. All I know about what I am I've heard from a group of warlocks. I need to hear it from your perspective. Because from what I know right now, there's so many downsides and no ups. That life- it could have been mine. No, it _should_ have been. I need to hear something about it that doesn't just make me glad about what we lost and I've never known."

 

Maryse sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"I don't know what to tell you," she finally said after a few long minutes of tense silence, sounding resigned and tired and so much older than she really was. "The life of a Shadowhunter is a hard one. But we are born for it, it's literally in our blood. That still doesn't mean it's for everyone – I would know. My own brother was only too glad to leave it for a mundane girl. Back then my parents and I were so humiliated...” Her lips twitched up into a parody of a smile, tight-lipped and joyless.

“You have no idea how much I got taunted and shunned for what my peers had deemed an act of cowardice and weakness. I recognize now that it actually was one of the bravest, strongest actions I've ever witnessed. To actively _choose_ to leave your old life, all that you've known and grown up with, behind for someone you love, something you believe in. To be willing to go through the pain of being stripped off your marks, your essence, without knowing for sure that you'll even settle into your new life, that you've chosen right... I wish I knew where he went to after he'd left us, just so I could apologize for all the things I said to him when he told us about his decision. Tell him how much I've learned to admire it."

 

"But didn't you do the same?" Maryse just looked at him with wide eyes, obviously taken off-guard, puzzlement written plainly across her face.

 

"What do you mean?" Alec was astounded he could still identify the sentence as a question with how impressively little emphasis she'd placed on it.

 

"You actively chose to leave that life behind you, as well. For me. And before you protest, you _could_ have given yourself over to the Clave and hope they'd have mercy on you, on _us_ , instead of fleeing to hide with me."

 

Maryse shook her head. "It was hardly a choice. You didn't see the Clave members that night in the Hall of Accords. I was sure I'd die, or at best rot in a cell under the Bone City for the rest of my miserable existence, if I'd surrendered. That would have made you the practically orphaned child of two traitors and I don't even want to imagine what that could have meant for you..."

 

"I stand by my opinion." Alec grinned at her and Maryse's lips twitched up into what might have been a genuine, however fleeting smile.

 

"If that's what you want to think. But to get back to our original topic – I guess what I loved most about being a Shadowhunter was feeling like I belonged. As if I was doing what I was born to do, standing between humanity and the monsters trying to suck the life out of our planet. My beliefs may have been faulty, but that's the part of that life I could never regret. For all the wrong I have done, I've also saved countless innocent lives. And there's nothing quite like the adrenaline rush a Nephilim experiences after combat."

 

She smiled, her eyes lighting up with something like cheekiness or mischief and for a moment, Alec was sure he could see what his mother had been like before all this. She'd still have lived the life of a soldier and he was reasonably sure that Maryse's controlled demeanor didn't just stem from the effects of loss and grief and too many karate lessons. But he'd never once seen that particular playful glint before – as if she could finally share an inside joke with him. In a way, that was pretty much what it was, though, wasn't it? It made Alec feel giddy inside, that he was in the know now, that his mother wouldn't have to lie to him any more. He might not know what killing a demon felt like but at least he now knew there _were_ demons.

 

"So what you're saying is that it's basically a real life RPG shooter with a nice dash of actual risk of death, all for the greater good," said Alec, grinning. God, he was clearly spending too much time with Simon.

 

Maryse laughed. She'd been through enough evenings of Simon and Alec shouting at each other over one video game or another in the living room – perfectly audible in every other room of the small apartment thanks to their volume and the too thin walls – to know what he was talking about. Not to mention the painful memory of the Day of Geeky Doom, as Simon had named it, also known as the day Maryse joined in for fun and wiped the floor with them. 'We do not talk about this, ever' was at the top of Simon's highscore list to this day, even though they'd been fifteen at the time. And it wasn't because they'd stopped playing that particular game, either, despite the humiliating memory. Although it had become distinctly less humiliating now that Alec knew on how much real life fighting and scheming her success had been based.

 

"Something like that," she finally said once she'd managed to rein in her laughter. "But while there are a lot of things I'd like to say to my younger self, hopefully to keep her from learning it the hard way, I can't say I regret it. I've always been a Shadowhunter through and through."

 

"Would you go back to that life now? If you could?" Alec bit his bottom lip nervously, not knowing what answer he was hoping for.

 

"Maybe," said Maryse, poker face back on as she returned to staring blankly at the wall. "There are so many decisions factoring into making that impossible, I can't really tell what I'd choose in a situation where all those circumstances would be reversed. But I do know that I've been perfectly content with life as it is while it meant that at least you were safe. Now that you apparently aren't any more... There's nothing I'd love more than to just pick up my old weapons, slip into gear and hunt down whoever is threatening my family."

 

She absentmindedly pushed up the sleeve of her fitted black shirt and started scratching lightly at a patch of skin. When Alec's gaze followed her movements, he realized that her fingers were drifting over a slightly raised scar, almost invisible on her pale skin. With her restless hands continuously moving over it he couldn't really make out what it was, but putting together the glimpses he'd managed to catch they formed something like a rhombus with two broad lines emerging from the top which then folded back and tapered off, back toward the rhombus. Alec had no idea what it meant but it made a rush of _something_ trickle down his spine, the fine hairs at the back of his neck and on his arms standing on end.

 

He wanted to ask Maryse about it but it didn't seem like she was aware of what she was doing and he had a feeling she'd probably shut down if he started asking too detailed questions about the scar y parts of being a Shadowhunter. Instead, he focused on what she'd said. He didn't want to ask that question, at all, it made his stomach roll just to imagine the expression on Maryse's face once the words would pass his lips, but he had to do it. It was infinitely more important than the significance of the symbol seemingly etched into her arm.

 

"Is it true? What Catarina said? About... about me having a sister? Do you really not know what happened to her and my father or are they...?"

 

What little movement there had been in Maryse's features before just froze, becoming utterly still as her lips pressed together until they were barely even a thin white line any more. The rest of her body went just as tense next to him. Alec gulped down the wave of nausea that hit him at knowing that he was responsible for putting that expression on her face. He'd sworn to himself years ago to never be the one to put that thinly veiled pain in her eyes ever again, but all the world-changing revelations of the past few hours had changed the playing field, the very rules. Hell, they'd made him realize he wasn't even in the same _game_ he'd thought he'd been playing his whole life.

 

"Yes," Maryse said, unusually hesitant. Her voice was raspy, as if she'd had to fight to get the sound out of her throat. "Yes, you have a little sister. And I don't know what happened to her, or your father. The last thing I remember from that night is that I realized we would lose, probably die, that we were surrounded and there was no way out. That Valentine was nowhere to be seen, that he'd made us his sacrificial lambs. I turned to your father and for a split-second our eyes met and we knew what we had to do. I didn't see him after that, we ran in different directions. We'd have been easier to catch if we'd fled together, and they'd probably have guessed right away where we were headed. No one knew that-" she choked on her next words and Alec's heart thumped painfully against his ribs.

 

"I feel so awful admitting this out loud, especially to you. But we'd been so confident in our easy victory... I just left you and your sister in our town residence. By the time I got there, there was no sign of either your father or your sister and I barely had time to grab you out of your cot before I heard noise from downstairs and had to hide from the first search party. The Circle must have been taken down really quickly, they were there so shortly after my arrival. I guess so many fled or surrendered that the few that had decided to die for Valentine in spite of his betrayal were easily overwhelmed.

 

"Luckily, you were still half asleep when the first party searched the house, so you kept quiet on your own. At the time I cursed everything when your crying led Catarina to find us, but then again it was probably a very lucky coincidence. We'd hardly have made it out of Alicante without her help."

 

"Catarina said my father and my sister must have had help as well or they'd never have made it beyond the additional wards." It felt so incredibly strange and foreign to say it out loud, to apply those concepts to his own life. _My father and my sister_. One he'd had hardly any occasion to utter throughout the past fifteen years and the other he'd never even considered a possibility, despite what Clary had said about it, mostly in jest.

 

"She's right. _If_ they made it beyond the wards.” Maryse paused, her fingers clenching around the hem of her sleeve as if to anchor herself. “We've never found a trace of them... I fear that maybe they were killed by a Downworlder or one of the Clave still running on the heat of battle. Perhaps they didn't want to deal with the proceedings that would have followed killing an innocent child, even if it was the child of a pair of traitors, so they hid the bodies and kept quiet..."

 

"Or maybe they were lucky, too and they're just really well hidden." It didn't sound particularly convincing even to his own ears but Alec just couldn't leave only the worst case scenario standing in the room. Maryse already looked as if she'd bolt and leave this conversation to never be resumed if only she could. "I mean, I'm sure it would have been really hard for them to find us even if they're alive and looking for us, so maybe we're just facing the same problem."

 

"Sure," she said tonelessly, shrugging a bit.

 

"Will you tell me about them?" Alec could hardly swallow past the huge, uncomfortable lump in his throat. He didn't look at his mother, instead letting his eyes rest on the tiny, blob-shaped brown stain on the wall.

 

"Alec..." She sounded choked and Alec wanted to take the question back but found that he couldn't. She had to give him at least _something_. They were his family as well, even if he'd never met them at an age when he would have remembered them clearly. Maryse was his _mother_ , he could expect her to at least give him more than what he'd learned from a complete stranger, no matter what her history with their family might suggest.

 

"At least her name. How old was she when it happened? How old would she be now? I'll probably never get to see her, if she's even still alive. The least I could ask for is a name, if I can't have a face to go with it." His fingers had dug deep into the cushions and he had to fight to keep his gaze on the wall. He was really trying not to make this more difficult for Maryse, but – even though he doubted it made things any easier – she'd had over a decade to get used to this, to somehow deal with the knowledge. Alec hadn't. He didn't even have a single real memory to hold onto.

 

"Isabelle. Her name is- was, Isabelle. But we used to call her Izzy. You could never be bothered to call her Isabelle." Maryse's voice sounded strained and hoarse and a small sob escaped her at the end of the sentence before she could rein it in. Alec didn't turn around to her. She wouldn't want him to, anyway. "Her- it would have been her first birthday, a week from the battle."

 

Alec swallowed hard, biting at his lip until he tasted blood. His fingers twitched where they were still buried in the boring, beige material of the couch. Only seconds later, they were covered by another set of long fingers, cool and dry and shakier than he'd ever felt them before.

 

"I don't want to lose another child to that world, Alec. Please promise me you'll be careful. I know they saved your life, they saved us, but... Be wary, please? I would appreciate it if you would get as little involved as possible, okay?"

 

Alec nodded, still not looking at Maryse. He took another deep breath before he turned his hand over, palm up, and linked his fingers with hers. Rationally, he knew why she wanted him to stay away from this. He should _want_ to stay away from this. But somehow, he felt more like the Shadow World had taken so much away from him... it should be his right to claim as much as it would let him for his own now, in return. That world owed him. And a certain pair of mesmerizing cat eyes only made up a small part of the irrational attraction.

 

And maybe the question wasn't even how far Alec could really stay away from what the very blood in his veins was calling for. Perhaps it was rather a question of how far away the Shadow World was willing to stay away from _him_.

 

###

 

Outside of the apartment, something moved in the shadows of the alley next to the house, right beneath the window of the living room.

 

So the boy knew now. That was to be expected, after the incident with the Devrak. They would have to be more careful now. But really, a bunch of warlocks, a retired Shadowhunter – a worthless traitor, really – and a helpless boy who had no idea what he was or what he could do – none of them really posed much of a threat. It would be easy, so easy, they just had to proceed with more care.

 

When another silent shadow slipped into the alley, seraph blade already in hand, the stranger left, unnoticed by either the other invader or the family he'd been observing. What was keeping an eye out on one more tool on their way to success, in the great scheme of things? They would get what they wanted, anyway. No one prepared for something they didn't even see coming. And they had made sure no one had seen them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally venturing out of the realm of explanations! Sorry it took so long – most of the time I've already started writing the next chapter when I post the current one, but the first draft is always done relatively quickly. It's the editing that takes forever because I can be a bit of a perfectionist – I swear I spent at least an hour of my life on just two short paragraphs of this, rewriting them again and again and switching the sentence structure around until I was somewhat satisfied with the result. 
> 
> I'm trying for the 'show don't tell' approach in the character relationships, both through dialogue and integrating little snippets of memories, but I have an awful tendency to get sidetracked and make those 'snippets' five paragraphs long until no one actually remembers what had been going on originally. I'm aware of this, so I cut a lot in those areas and try to pay close attention to what is really necessary and what amounts to random details no one needs that I just jotted down as the image formed in my head. That also goes for the amount of parenthesis in my writing – it's part of my style but I don't want it to become too much and thus take away from the reading experience. So if you've read through all of this and are willing to help out with constructive criticism,if you find that I'm still doing too much of either or both feel free to tell me :) My aim is to make my writing the best I can, not only for my sake but for you as my readers as well – just because it's fanfiction and I don't get payed for it doesn't mean that there's no need to put both my heart and some effort into it. You deserve a well thought-out plot and as little typos and incongruities as possible and a text that flows and I'm always trying to give you that – it often means irregular or rather late updates but I hope you can forgive me that one in exchange :)

"Alec, that's at least the fifth time you've been looking over your shoulder since we got in the subway. We're not even at the first stop." Clary's green eyes fixed him with such an unimpressed glare they almost looked even colder than Maryse's at her best. Alec was convinced she'd actually picked up that particular expression from his mother – Jocelyn had the whole 'disapproving mother'-glare down as well, but she wasn't Maryse-levels of terrifying.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alec said, wincing at the almost palpable defensiveness in his tone.

 

Maybe he was really just getting paranoid over the fact that someone was sending demons after him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed whenever he stepped out of the house. Even inside the apartment there were times when a cold, menacing kind of tingling sensation at the back of his neck would suddenly have him spinning round on his heels, eyes searching frantically for whoever was observing him. Luckily, it had never happened when anyone was around to witness his ridiculous behavior, so far. He usually just laughed at himself when he realized what he was doing, to take the edge off the moment. Yet again, Alec wasn't sure if he was losing it or if there was an actual threat at his heels to be wary of – that question seemed to become a recurring theme in his life post-Pandemonium incident.

 

Clary didn't even deem his seriously lame attempt at obliviousness worthy of rolling her eyes at him. Instead, she leaned forward to catch his gaze just as they finally came to a halt at that damned first stop, covering as much of his hands as she could with her own comparatively tiny but surprisingly strong fingers.

 

"You know you can tell me, right? I won't judge you, whatever it is. I just want to help you." Alec recognized that look. It was the same one she had given him back in eighth grade, when he'd slowly begun to come to terms with his sexuality and hadn't known how to bring it up, or how to explain that even though he was fairly sure 'gay' applied pretty well to him he hadn't wanted to stick a label on himself just in case. People tend to limit you to a certain box all the more if you've sorted yourself into it. So he'd kept his thoughts to himself.

 

Clary had waited him out patiently, years of experience having taught her that demanding answers only made Alec shut down, that he'd have to come to her in his own time. It never meant that Alec _wanted_ to hide anything from her, he just needed to be very sure of himself before he'd even try to put together his words. That's not to say she hadn't been plenty indignant that Alec had thought her capable of holding something like that over him. Alec then reminded her that she was still teasing him about wanting to be an accountant when he'd been in kindergarten.

 

For the first time in all their years together, though, Alec didn't know if he even, literally, _could_ tell her.

 

For one, she'd probably think he'd gone batshit crazy. How could he prove his story, anyway? As far as Alec was aware, Clary was as perfectly human and mundane as they came – she didn't see the world the same way he did. For her, the glamours would most likely hold. Which wouldn't really contribute to his credibility.

 

And what if she _did_ believe him? Knowing Clary, she'd probably think it was cool, completely disregarding the potential risk of death. And even if she should decide to suddenly think twice before jumping into things, as against her nature as it might be, Alec was fairly certain she'd still refuse to stay on the sidelines. Not while Alec was involved and quite possible in a life-or-death-but-leaning-more-toward-death situation. And Alec most certainly didn't want her dragged into this whole mess on his behalf. Preferably, he'd untangle himself from it as well, but that seemed an unlikely option for now.

 

"I know," Alec said, turning his hands over so he could squeeze hers. "And I trust you. Just give me some more time, okay?" Maybe he _could_ tell her when this being-stalked-by-someone-sending-murderous-denizens-of-hell-after-him thing would be over.

 

Clary snorted at him. "Why did I know you would say that?" She grinned, squeezing back briefly then dropping her hands back to her sides. They sat in silence for a few moments before Clary turned back to him, eyes alight with a different, less urgent kind of curiosity. Alec took a deep breath and relaxed a little, relief washing over him before she'd even opened her mouth to speak. They seemed to be done with digging up his big secrets for the moment.

 

"So, what changed your mind? I thought you'd officially sworn to all powers that may or may not be that you'd never go into another club with me ever again?"

 

Alec shrugged. "I must be having a really bad case of cabin fever."

 

Clary rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, right. Says the guy who spent all of last year's summer break holing up with Simon in front of a bunch of game consoles. Maryse had to switch off the power for an hour to convince you two that moving about in fresh air every once in a while actually wouldn't kill you. And that pacing up and down in front of an open window didn't count."

 

Alec bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning too obviously. "Maybe it's different because it's our last summer before we start college? You know, enjoy the moment while it lasts, before everything changes." His smile dropped, not because what he'd said had been sincere – he really had bigger worries just now – but because he realized he actually _was_ suffering from cabin fever. There was a difference between not _wanting_ to leave the house for weeks and _not being able to_ without being gruesomely murdered. But he could hardly tell Clary that, which in turn made him want to smile even less.

 

"Because you and Simon won't be at the same college and sharing a dorm at all. There will be absolutely no video game marathons involving the two of you in your future, I'm sure." Years of being friends with two sarcastic idiots had perfected Clary's deadpan voice to the point that even said idiots tended to be rendered speechless for a few moments when faced with so much sheer sass.

 

"Why are you even complaining?" Alec said when he'd caught himself again, raising an eyebrow at her. "You got what you wanted and I solemnly swear to try my best to actually enjoy myself and not be a drag."

 

"True," said Clary with a shrug. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?"

 

Just when Alec was starting to make himself a little more comfortable in his seat now that the hard topics seemed dropped, his phone announced – quite loudly, he must have forgotten to put it on silent yet again – the arrival of a new text message. Clary was immediately back to side-eying him suspiciously and Alec did his best to hide the slight twitching in his hands as they made to reflexively grab for his phone the second the sound registered. He suppressed the urge – there was only one person who'd text him at this hour, and it wasn't Maryse.

 

She'd been surprisingly forthcoming about Alec going out with Clary once he'd promised he'd always stay with at least her, preferably in a crowd, and steer away from dark alleys. Maybe it was the fact that it had been two weeks since Magnus had brought him home – two weeks in which absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened and no glittery warlock had been foolish enough to show his face in their house. Which led Alec to the other possible reason for Maryse's unsettling leniency: Maybe she was just glad that going out with Clary would mean he'd have no opportunity to meet with Magnus, unless he wanted to risk dragging her into this whole mess. That Clary would act both as some sort of babysitter/chaperone and additional motivation to stay out of harm's way. Which, as making plans for keeping people safe that you couldn't just lock away until the threat would pass went was pretty genius, he had to admit.

 

There was just one drawback to her more general plan of keeping Alec as far away from Magnus and his warlock friends as possible: She still underestimated the influence of modern technology on people's personal lives in the 21st century. Perhaps it was because some of her old ways of thinking had stuck – he'd managed to get some more stories about life as a Shadowhunter out of her in those two weeks, and from what he'd gathered the Nephilim weren't really big on going with the times. Even fifteen years of living as a mundane and experiencing technological revolution firsthand hadn't done anything to lessen her aversion against everything IT-related. Unless absolutely necessary for work, Maryse refused to even start up a computer. The only thing she ever used her cell phone for was receiving calls and occasionally making a call herself. Maybe send Alec a text asking for his whereabouts what felt like once every other year.

 

Much as he was ashamed to admit it, Alec had made use of that particular tendency. He had promised Maryse to try not to get involved with the Shadow World – not that he'd never contact Magnus or Catarina ever again. Meeting in person might have attracted unwanted attention, since he was apparently being followed to some degree, but texting? Chatting? Unless demons had recently learned how to hack into his phone and/or laptop – which he somehow doubted since most of them weren't even intelligent enough to speak, from what Magnus had told him in one of their 4 am Q&As about the basic workings of the Shadow World – there was no harm in keeping a little (a lot) in contact with the guy who'd saved your life twice, right? Apart maybe from the huge crush on way more than just an attractive exterior and a few nice actions he was finding himself developing.

 

The past two weeks had not only taught him that he could probably fall for Magnus Bane, and in record time, if he kept going at this rate – they also taught him to _never_ read one of his texts in company, because there was 50/50 chance (more likely actually a 70/30) that it would be something flirtatious and innuendo-laden that would have him blushing madly and sputtering to himself. Simon might have shrugged it off – even though he'd worn a very disconcerting smirk for the rest of the week whenever he'd seen Alec with his phone out – but Clary would never let it go.

 

His phone chimed again.

 

"Aren't you going to check those texts?" Clary asked sweetly. Way too sweetly, for his liking. "Someone seems really desperate to reach you."

 

Alec grimaced at her and kept his hands firmly at his sides. His phone chimed once more. Clary was still batting her eyelashes at him when he fumbled for it in his pocket, in a really bad mockery of innocence that did nothing to hide her malevolent intentions.

 

If he wanted to escape death by humiliation, he'd have to outsmart her – she was way too swift and cunning for her own good when she wanted to be. Alec still had war flashbacks to that Christmas two years ago; he'd given her a Slytherin scarf as a joke only to find his room covered in open, dripping wet umbrellas not two days later ( _Pottermore sorted me into Gryffindor, Alec, your argument is invalid_ ). He still had no clue how she'd gotten so many umbrellas on bank holidays or how she'd managed to drape them all in his room without either him or Maryse noticing. Though Alec had always suspected that his mother had been in on that particular punishment as revenge for being left alone with the dishes on Thanksgiving on behalf of gaming night with Simon.

 

Another reason Clary shouldn't get a look at a text from Magnus – she was way too close with Maryse, if you asked Alec, and there was a good chance she'd let something slip, even if not on purpose.

 

In an act of desperation, Alec shut his phone off while still fumbling with it and tried his best to put on a frustrated expression when he finally managed to wrestle it free from his pocket only to be faced with a black screen.

 

"The battery must have died," he said gravely, hoping that the guilt wasn't too apparent on his face.

 

"Your mom made sure it was at least at fifty percent before she let you leave," said Clary, clearly not buying the lie and looking so unimpressed with him Alec could barely suppress a wince.

 

"It's almost two years old, I bet the guarantee is catching up with it. Batteries die soon, these days." That lie also went over as well as you'd expect and Alec and Clary spent the whole rest of the subway ride, up until the last possible moment they could still get out, wrestling for his phone.

 

"Don't think this is over, Turner," Clary said with a huff as they made their way back up to the streets, glaring at him. Alec's stomach churned when it hit him that that name was only partly applicable now – and that his best friend since childhood didn't even know his real name any more. It didn't really make him feel better that he himself had only found out about that two weeks ago.

 

"I'd never dare to, Fray." He tried to mimic her easy, casual tone and apparently he either managed to come off convincing – doubtful – or at least to convince her to let it drop for now. Alec really hoped it was the latter because as impractical as it was right now, he really didn't even want to possess the ability to lie his best friend to the face without her noticing. With Clary's usual perceptiveness and his inability to be anything but an open book to anyone willing to read, it would have made him feel worse if she hadn't caught on.

 

Clary just kept glaring at him until she absolutely had to keep her eyes on the street to avoid being run into by already drunk party goers too busy to solve the mystery of grammar while texting to look up from their phones. Alec inhaled deeply when the heavy weight of her suspiciously narrowed eyes on him disappeared for a while.

 

Thankfully, Clary hadn't insisted on going back to Pandemonium when Alec had agreed to go out with her. Even though she had no idea what had actually happened there while she'd been waiting in line for the bathroom, she seemed to have sensed that he had no desire whatsoever to enter the godforsaken place ever again, for any reason. Instead, they now stood in line in front of a brightly lit glass front. The glass was frosted so that they couldn't peek into the club from the sidewalk, but it still made a much more welcoming impression than Pandemonium. Alec felt himself relax a little. He hadn't even noticed how tense he'd been all evening – even if he'd pushed the thought as far from his conscious mind as possible, the memory of what had transpired the last time he'd been to a club had made him hyperalert to the dangers of a demon attack when out at night. 'The Bright' didn't have any shady alleys, though. It was fit neatly between two other buildings and so well-lit and clean it almost hurt to look at it – the very opposite of Pandemonium.

 

"How are we even going to get in there?" Alec asked tentatively, eying the well- and from the looks of it extremely expensively dressed people in front of them. If that was The Bright's standard then it was probably no use wasting time in line there because they definitely wouldn't be let in. Clary managing to wrestle him out of his shabby sweaters and into one of his few dress shirts for once might have been an impressive feat in itself, but Alec doubted that the bouncer would recognize it as such or be impressed enough to look past the fact that said shirt had probably cost less than the shoelaces of the guy in front of them.

 

"Don't be such a pessimist all the time." Clary grinned at him, a few stray curls willfully escaping from her otherwise neatly pinned-up hair and blowing against her cheek, framing her face dramatically. The effect did nothing to ease the knot in his stomach. This wasn't a good sign. That was Clary's 'I'm going to do something incredibly reckless and a lot illegal' grin, complete with frightening glint in her eyes and flashing teeth. Alec swallowed hard.

 

"Do I even want to know?" He wasn't proud of the compliant note mixing with the resignation in his voice but years of experience had taught him that it was absolutely no use putting up a fight against Clary's insane plans – he was going to go along with it, anyway. If not for any other reason then because he knew full well that otherwise she'd just do it on her own and most likely would end up either in a cell or a hospital bed.

 

"Probably not." If the bordering-on-maniac grin on her face wasn't worrying then Alec needed a new definition of the word.

 

He spent the whole wait trying not to break out into a nervous sweat and keep his shifting to a minimum. By the time they finally got to the front of the line, he was ready to bolt and just drag Clary after him and call it a night. Clary merely dug her nails into his forearm and smiled serenely at the huge, bald guy in front of them eying them skeptically. Before he could say anything, Clary had already produced her ID from inside her miniscule purse, handing it over with a precision that seemed a little exaggerated to Alec.

 

The bouncer's brow furrowed for a second and Alec's stomach clenched in anticipation at the same time that a relieved sigh was building up in his chest. He was about to turn on his heels and finally make their slightly humiliating escape when suddenly, the man's face broke into a wide smile. He looked almost elated when he handed Clary her ID back and barely even glanced at Alec's. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec saw him subtly slip something into his pocket while they were waved inside by another bouncer.

 

"What did you slip him?" Alec whispered into her ear as soon as they were out of earshot. At least this place had some idea of noise regulation, so he didn't have to shout into her ear to be heard.

 

"Antonio had some tickets for the Yankees game but can't go because his cousin's wedding is on the same day," Clary said, beaming at him. Alec rolled his eyes but couldn't deny that this plan was genius – and much less illegal than he'd expected. He'd have to thank Jocelyn's gallery partner one of these days.

 

"Poor Antonio. But how did you even know the bouncer would like tickets to the Yankees? He could have been a Mets fan, for all you should know. Or despise baseball altogether."

 

"Not very likely," Clary said with a shrug. "Antonio knows him and when I asked him about nice, non-shady clubs we could go he mentioned this one and said he knew a way to get us in that probably wouldn't even make Mom yell at me."

 

At this point, Jocelyn was probably used enough to Clary's more insane ideas that this wouldn't even make it anywhere close to the list of yell-worthy stuff. So Alec just shrugged and went along with a small smile when Clary dragged him straight to the dance floor.

 

While he still couldn't say that he was a big fan of clubbing, Alec liked this experience much better than Pandemonium. It was less packed, the lighting wasn't as flashy and obnoxious, there was no dry ice fog around his ankles and the music was at a volume where his ears didn't feel like they were about to start bleeding. Maryse would be satisfied – both the crowd and the club itself were way too boring for Magnus to ever show up there. There was what he'd call a 'disconcerting lack of glitter' to be found, on dancers _and_ decor.

 

Yet again, Clary thankfully refrained from using her fake ID – why she'd even gotten it in the first place was a mystery to Alec; it wasn't like she really went out with anyone else except maybe Maia and he doubted they were drinking all that much together, either. Maybe it had been more the thrill of acquiring it than the idea of actually using it. It was so badly done it most likely wouldn't do much good, anyway. So they stuck to sipping their virgin drinks whenever they weren't dancing.

 

Alec had to admit that he was really having fun by now. He still wasn't the wildest dancer but the less oppressive atmosphere and the lack of elbows too close to his face for comfort or other people's drinks almost on his clothes helped him relax significantly. He was moving to the beat – there was actual room to do so – and his body was thrumming with energy and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he now had an idea why anyone would even want to do this in their free time.

 

Naturally, Alec's luck decided that that was way too much fun in one evening and things were definitely going too well. So when Clary and Alec stumbled out of the club around 3 am, sweaty and laughing, there were of course no cabs to be had because apparently, everyone else had decided to leave at the same time as them. Shrugging, Clary dragged him down the street to try their luck somewhere less crowded. Alec was still high on endorphins and didn't even notice how far from the brightly lit, safe streets they were venturing. He was happy to follow Clary along since her sense of direction was much better, anyway.

 

Suddenly the silence they'd been walking in – Alec didn't even count the distant noise of traffic or the muffled bass coming from other clubs down the street any more – was disrupted by a low growling sound that both reminded him of a dog and most definitely _wasn't_ a dog emitting from the broad, very dark alley they were passing.

 

Alec froze and looked around them. They were in a dimly-lit side street and there was no one but them anywhere near that alley. If they'd actively tried to hand themselves to a demon on a silver platter they couldn't have done better.

 

"Clary," Alec said, tugging on the sleeve of her black leather jacket – a Christmas gift from him, Simon and Maia to go along with the rows of action movies that had lined her DVD-shelf back then and wasn't it ironic that she was wearing this of all things as they'd get mauled by a demon because of him? His voice trembled, so shaky it was barely audible, but Clary still turned around – and froze as well. Whatever she was seeing or hearing, it definitely wasn't much less terrifying than Alec's version.

 

An ugly, flat head that reminded him a bit of an alligator – apart from the bunch of insect-like eyes on top – pushed itself slowly out of the alley and closer to where they were standing, a disgusting trail of saliva dripping from its teeth. And those were definitely teeth, not spines – sharp, deadly-looking canines. Fangs, even. And from the foul, gag-worthy smell the thing was emitting, it might as well be poisonous. It growled again, crouching low on the floor as if to prepare for a leap. Something that might have been a tail flicked behind it in the darkness.

 

The next growl almost sounded like something in very garbled English but Alec had more important things to do than trying to figure out what the thing about to kill and eat him was saying. Cursing himself for not paying better attention to where they'd been going, he pushed a still paralyzed Clary slightly behind him, stepping slowly backwards and simultaneously digging into his pocket and praying that his phone would turn back on quickly enough that he could get a call out to Magnus before the demon could jump.

 

He'd hoped in vain, but just as he was about to close his eyes and wait for the inevitable, his phone still fighting its way back to life, a dark, indiscernible shadow dropped down from somewhere above at the same time that the demon finally made a move. The two shapes collided mid-air in a blur of movement too fast to follow with his eyes. There was a loud thump about a foot to their left and he felt as much as heard Clary gasp against his ear. The demon's barbed tail was suddenly dangerously close to them but before it could lash out with it, there was a flash of blinding light and an ugly gurgling sound. When Alec turned his attention away from the now twitching and slowly disappearing tail, there was a boy with a glowing sword-thing standing over the remains of the demon, grinning manically.

 

"It pains me to say, but you should probably listen to Bane more, Alexander. You basically ran head first into a demon nest." His voice was really nice – and so was the rest of him. Alec couldn't fault Clary for her quite obvious cursory glance. Once her eyes returned to Alec, she shot him a disapproving look that read 'You know someone _this_ hot and didn't introduce me?' quite clearly. Mr. Hot-Knight-In-Black-Leather noticed and preened so much it was almost more adorable than arrogant, his golden hair blowing into his equally golden eyes and blinding smile. He looked more like a statue or one of Simon and Clary's beloved anime heroes than a real person in that moment, especially with that still glowing sword held so nonchalantly at his side.

 

"Thanks for the safe but... do I know you?" Alec said, gripping Clary's arm more tightly. The same filtered-in light that had illuminated the guy's surreal features before was now making the runes covering his neck and arms stand out in sharp relief. A Shadowhunter. A Shadowhunter who seemed to know who he was and had maybe followed them – Alec didn't really believe in coincidence, especially not such a well-timed one.

 

"You don't just yet. Which is why I was about to introduce myself. Jace Herondale – it was my pleasure to heroically save your lives."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to anyone who reviewed! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but I was in an awful writing funk. I either couldn't get myself motivated to write at all or if I did, wasn't exactly pleased with the outcome and I refuse to update this story with a chapter that is not up to par with my own standards. I hope I haven't left you hanging for too long :) Just know that you're always welcome to come talk to me if I do! I know a lot of fic authors don't like to be bothered about updates but as long as you don't yell at me, seriously, go on ahead! I don't mind talking about any of my stories and this one is kind of my baby right now :) I'd be flattered if it resonates enough with any of you to actually create impatience or a desire to talk about it beyond just reading it – which is probably why reviews make me swoon so much xD (just in case anyone actually wants to, you can, as always, contact me here or find me on tumblr under yourloveisair)

"Is he kidding?" Clary threw Alec a skeptical glance, as if he were supposed to have the answer. Alec shrugged.

 

"How would I know? I've never met this guy before now, either."

 

"Well, he knows who _you_ are at least, and he saved us from that-" She looked pointedly at the space next to them where seconds ago the demon had flickered out of existence. "Whatever it was."

 

Alec shot her a curious look. He'd already assumed that she probably hadn't just seen a rabid dog or something along those lines – the look of sheer terror on her face hadn't been anything a wild animal and the prospect of maybe needing a rabies shot or at worst having bits of your arm chewed off would evoke. It had been the kind of panic reserved for things unknown and definitely more life-threatening. Then again, anyone's brain would probably have a little trouble coming up with a believable cover story for this particular situation. Clary had always seen the world in her own way, anyway, and it wouldn't come as much of a surprise if she actually had the Sight. At least not more of a surprise than Alec being a Shadowhunter.

 

Jace raised an eyebrow at them. "I'd think it a staggering discovery to find _two_ mundanes able to see the Shadow World right before my eyes if I didn't know that at least one of you isn't really a mundane and my research hadn't told me that the Sight isn't quite as uncommon as I was raised to believe."

 

"Did he just call me mundane?" Clary immediately bristled. "You don't know a thing about me, don't you think you're a little quick to judge?" Her voice practically dripped with venom. Jace didn't even so much as flinch, he just exchanged a quick look with Alec and shrugged in a 'what can you do?' way.

 

"I'm not judging you, I'm just telling it as it is. Unless you want to confess to being a supernatural creature of some sort."

 

Clary furrowed her brow at him. "You never know," Alec said dryly, returning Clary's attention to him.

 

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Alec?" She raised an eyebrow at him, hands on her hips, utterly unshaken by the notion that supernatural beings might actually exist and that her best friend might be something other than human. She looked a lot like Jocelyn in that moment, fierce and intimidating and hilariously at odds with her petite stature. Alec bit his bottom lip, not sure if he was trying to suppress a grin or keep it from quivering because the shock was finally getting to him. It had all happened so fast; the night had started out so deceivingly peaceful. He wasn't sure his brain had actually caught up with his most recent near-death experience just yet.

 

He risked a quick look at Jace who just raised an eyebrow in return. "Aren't we supposed to keep the Shadow World a secret and hidden from mundanes?" Alec asked, head reeling. At least that's what both Maryse and Magnus had told him – one of the few things they shared an opinion on. Jace shrugged.

 

"That's what's in the Covenant. But from what I've gathered you're not really part of the Shadow World right now and you definitely didn't swear on the Covenant, so... I guess you've got bigger problems, as long as you don't try to sell your life story to a newspaper."

 

Heaving a deep sigh, Alec turned back to Clary. "Two weeks ago I found out that I'm not actually an ordinary human being, but born a demon hunter with angel blood? Mom is one, too. Apparently, so was my father and I probably owe you because I actually do have a younger sister, though no one knows for sure if they are still alive or where they are." The words almost blurred into each other – Alec hardly dared to take a breath in between for fear that if he stopped his courage would leave him and he'd just stop talking mid-sentence.

 

"Oh, you so owe me! I totally called it!" Clary grinned triumphantly at him for a moment, before the implications caught up with her and her smile fell, leaving her wide-eyed and even paler than usual. "Oh man, that time your mom kicked me out. Oh God. It's not like I can go back in time and change anything about that afternoon but I want you to know that I feel really, really guilty about that right now."

 

"She's not angry at you, Clary. It's not your fault you accidentally hit the nail on the head." Alec rolled his eyes at her and Clary playfully punched him in the upper arm.

 

"Oh, shut up. You're not the one who put her foot in her mouth. But do tell me more about the demon hunting and angel blood thing. It sounds rather badass."

 

"Believe me, it is," Jace said, flashing a wide grin that was probably meant to look charming, very subtly twirling the sword between his fingers without so much as a look down at what he was doing. It had stopped glowing and without the unearthly shine to it, the sword looked even more like a very sharp, deadly extension of his arm. Clary smirked at him, amusement written all over her face, clearly refraining from rolling her eyes.

 

"When you're done bragging, could you finally get around to the explaining?"

 

Alec chuckled quietly to himself at the caught and slightly pissed off look on Jace's face. There was a hint of disbelief in it as well, and what might be respect – Alec imagined that it wasn't often that a guy like Jace didn't get the wanted attention.

 

"And once you're at it you can tell me how you know who I am, why you were following us and what your goals are, preferably somewhere that is not a dimly lit, deserted side street next to a demon-housing alley while you're holding a lethal-looking sword." He pulled up his contacts on his phone, his thumb hovering over Magnus' name as he kept his eyes locked on Jace's. Jace shrugged, the air of indifference only ruined by the hard line of his pressed together lips and the way his eyes kept wandering to the phone in Alec's hand.

 

"Fine by me. Who are you going to call? Your mother?"

 

Alec shook his head. "No. I really don't want her to know about this one if I can avoid it. I'm calling Magnus."

 

Jace grimaced. "Is that really necessary?"

 

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, tightening his grip on his phone and narrowing his eyes at Jace, his voice dangerously calm. "Why do you ask? Is there a problem, _Jace_?" His thumb wasn't so much hovering over Magnus' name as it was all but pressing down now. It was Jace's turn to shake his head, but while he still looked disgruntled, his lips kept twitching up into aborted little grins and his eyes were definitely smiling as they kept flicking over Alec's barely contained mask of fake calm. They were both aware that Jace could probably have Alec helpless and on his back, phone in useless pieces, faster than Magnus could answer a call at the best of times.

 

"Apart from the fact that I'm not the biggest fan of Bane and he's not exactly friendly with me, no. Where do you suggest we meet up with him, assuming he gets his lazy ass out of bed or away from his latest party at this hour of the night?"

 

Alec's right eyebrow almost disappeared in his hair before Jace had even finished speaking. "You might want to add the story behind that to the ever longer list of things you're going to have to explain to us tonight. Also, you should probably see a therapist about that stalking problem of yours. And _we_ are going to Magnus' apartment."

 

Jace groaned as if the thought alone were physically painful, completely disregarding Alec's clever jibe. Alec tried not to feel wounded in his pride. "Why there? That whole place practically _radiates_ dirt and glitter." Jace pulled a disgusted face and shuddered exaggeratedly. Alec rolled his eyes at his antics while Clary hid her grin in his shoulder.

 

"I don't care if you're comfortable with his cleaning habits or his decor choices, you're the suspicious party here, so either you agree to my conditions and explain yourself on what I deem safe ground or you can go back to your nest of demons."

 

Clary snorted into the fabric of his jacket. "I'm not sure if you've played too many video games with Simon or just watched too much Game of Thrones."

 

"Both, probably." Alec grinned and shrugged, disturbing the comfortable rest Clary's head had come to on his shoulder. She laughed and gave him a playful shove. Jace watched them for a moment before clearing his throat in an excessively theatrical gesture.

 

"While I'm sure your friendship is beautiful on some level that will hopefully forever escape me, you should probably call Bane sometime soon. It's getting cold and boring out here and while I eliminated every demon in this particular nest that's not to say there aren't more around."

 

"Such a drama queen," said Alec under his breath as he pressed call, putting Magnus on speaker so Clary and Jace could follow the conversation. It rang at least ten times, the sound echoing loudly in the side street and making them all fidget nervously – no matter how much Jace tried to play it off by checking on the admittedly rather impressive assortment of weapons in his belt – before Magnus finally picked up.

 

"This better be life-or-death and you better prepare to pay fivefold my usual price," Magnus more growled than spoke into the phone in lieu of a greeting, sounding tired and pissed off and not at all like his usual smooth, alluring self.

 

"Well, I don't think it's life-or-death per se, but Clary and I apparently managed to walk into a demon nest and just had our lives saved by a Shadowhunter introducing himself as Jace Herodale who seems to have followed all of us around and has a lot of explaining to do. Which I'd rather do at your place than in this shady, formerly demon-infested side street in Manhattan, if you don't mind."

 

Magnus groaned and yup, Alec was definitely getting way too much amusement out of this considering he'd almost been eaten a few minutes ago.

 

"Did you learn nothing from the Devrak incident? No more alleys for you, Alexander." Magnus' voice still sounded a little rough from sleep but he seemed considerably more awake. "And of course you had to run into Herondale of all people." He spit the name out as if it belonged to a particularly disgusting disease.

 

"Don't think I want to hang out in your filthy excuse for a loft," Jace said with an unfairly attractive pout from where he'd suddenly appeared at Alec's elbow. Alec startled and almost dropped his phone.

 

"How fitting, since I don't feel particularly welcoming toward you," came Magnus' almost instant reply. His voice softened considerably when he went back to addressing Alec. "I guess there's no way around bringing him. Don't let your delicious self be eaten by anything on the way, sweet pea!"

 

And with that he ended the call. Alec stared disbelievingly at the now black screen of his phone, face bright red as Jace and Clary snickered.

 

" _Sweet pea_! Oh, I'll make sure to remember that one," Jace said, wheezing from laughter.

 

Clary leaned back into Alec's side and patted his hair, smug smirk in place. "That's not by any chance the same guy who sent the texts you so desperately didn't want me to read, huh?"

 

It might have sounded casual but Alec knew a trap when he saw one. Pottermore would sort you into anything you wanted it to if you knew how to manipulate your answers. She could say whatever she wanted, deep at heart Clary would always be a Slytherin.

 

"Oh, shut up, you two," Alec said under his breath, cheeks still burning. "Anyway, Magnus seems to know you and at least trust you not to lead us into certain death, so go ahead." He made a shooing motion in Jace's direction.

 

"I'm not your guide dog," Jace murmured, pulling a face and finally putting his sword away to cross his arms over his chest. It made his well-defined biceps stand out rather unfairly. After a few seconds of shamelessly enjoying the view, Alec raised his gaze back up to Jace's face and ignored the knowing smirk there in favor of raising an eyebrow expectantly. Jace huffed and rolled his eyes but eventually turned and started walking.

 

"Well, at least his exterior is agreeable enough to somewhat make up for his lack in social skills," Clary said with a shrug, grinning at Alec as they made to follow Jace.

 

"From what Mom and Magnus told me, Shadowhunters aren't really big on those as a whole," Alec said, chuckling under his breath.

 

"So, Shadowhunters. Is that what you are? And what about this Magnus guy? Is he one of you, too?"

 

"Yes, it would seem so. And no, Magnus is a warlock."

 

Clary's eyes went wide and an excited flush spread across her cheeks. "There are warlocks? Does that mean what I think it means? Oh, you're definitely going to tell me everything on the way there."

 

So that's what Alec did. He figured that at this point, trying to hide anything from Clary would prove fruitless, anyway – it had probably been doomed to fail from the beginning, if he was being honest. He kept a suspicious eye on Jace all the while. It was thus not really hard to notice the way he fell back and drifted closer to them until he occasionally even added something Alec didn't know about to the conversation. Clary seemed oblivious to the way his eyes followed her every gesture and kept returning to her face, but you never knew with her. For now, Alec would definitely keep his mouth shut and not say anything about it. Clary could gush at him later, if she wanted to.

 

Unfortunately, Clary didn't have the same regard for the privacy of Alec's personal life, so when they'd finished with the basics about three quarters of the way to Magnus', she returned to her earlier line of questioning, curiosity no longer distracted by the big hows and whos of the Shadow World. They were confined in a subway car by then, so there wasn't really an escape route for Alec.

 

"So, what exactly is going on with you and Magnus?" she asked out of nowhere right in the middle of a conversation about exactly how much of your dead body would be left for your loved ones to find if you made a Twilight joke at the wrong vampire. Her voice was treacherously calm and she sat unnaturally still, her hands folded neatly in her lap – she was bursting with curiosity. Like a hurricane, Clary always got eerily silent right before all hell broke loose.

 

Alec heaved a sigh. "How awful will my punishment be if I say nothing or pretend I don't know what you're talking about?"

 

Clary's grin was almost saccharine. "It'll probably involve umbrellas _and_ spiders."

 

Alec shuddered. God, that girl could be downright _evil._ "Oh, fine. But it's really not much of anything. We kept in contact after he saved my life. I mostly didn't want you to read his texts because he's an awful flirt and some of the things he says would probably have both of us blushing and wishing we'd never read them. Especially in each other's presence."

 

"But you like him," Clary said, her smile more genuine now as she leaned in and playfully jabbed Alec with her elbow. "And he seems to like you back."

 

"That's not really saying much of anything," Jace drawled from where he was sprawled not-quite-casually on the double seat opposite them. "Bane likes anything pretty enough to catch his eye. That includes a very long list of things. And people."

 

Clary scoffed at him. "Just because you don't like him doesn't mean he can't like Alec. Or that you get to be an asshole about it. Maybe it's different for you because you apparently do this heroic life saving thing all the time, but most people don't bother saving someone's life twice and texting them for two weeks if they're not interested."

 

Jace shrugged her glare off with a lecherous grin. "I'm not saying he's not interested. I'm just saying it doesn't take much for him to get interested, mostly in multiple things at a time, if you catch my meaning. And it's much harder to get his interest to abide once you have it."

 

"Well, for your information, Alec is a brilliant, fascinating person and is perfectly capable of keeping anyone interested in him for any stretch of time. At least until he starts rambling on about science for hours. Anyone who can't see that isn't worth his time in the first place." Clary almost fell out of her seat at the next bend, she'd leaned so far forward during her indignant speech in Alec's defense. Alec stopped her from meeting with the dirty subway floor with an outstretched arm, catching her at waist height.

 

He didn't miss the way Jace had sat up in his seat, muscles tensing as if readying to jump to her aid. Alec raised an eyebrow at him in question as Clary sat back in her seat, jutting her chin up and pushing errant strands of hair out of her face as casually as possible, face slightly flushed. Jace quickly went back to his relaxed pose on the seat before Clary could catch on, not meeting Alec's gaze and instead seeming to analyze the floor very thoroughly.

 

"I'm sure Jace noticed that during his many hours spent following me around," Alec said nonchalantly, biting back a grin when Jace glared at him and completely lost all air of aloofness.

 

"I thought you wanted me to explain myself on safe ground? I wasn't aware the subway counted," he drawled, trying to recover his cool and sound as disinterested and detached as possible. Alec noticed the way his eyes flicked to the little group of teenagers around their age lounging in their seats not too far from them.

 

"It doesn't." Alec shrugged, following his gaze. "But I figured if you're allowed to basically stalk me, I'm allowed to make fun of you for it. It must have been the time of your life." Alec had barely left the house in the past two weeks and he was pretty sure most of the time that hadn't been spent texting Magnus behind Maryse's back had gone into playing video games with Simon or watching movies with Clary and Maia. There had also been a lot of silently reading in his room or on the living room couch.

 

"I wasn't sure I could handle it, to be honest. I'm not used to so much excitement." Jace smirked at him, his hand subtly gliding over where Alec thought he could see the hint of a polished blade reflect back at him from one of the many practical yet stylish pockets on his pants.

 

"If you're done with the sass fest," said Clary, rolling her eyes and keeping an eye on the stops, bouncing her legs restlessly. "It's the next one, right?" Alec nodded and offered her a small, hopefully reassuring smile. He put a calming hand on her knee when her legs still wouldn't stop moving. Jace glared at it and Alec rolled his eyes at him when Clary was distracted by the group of teenagers for a moment. Unsurprisingly, that didn't make Jace's glare relent.

 

They didn't say anything else to each other once they got out at their stop and made their way to Magnus' loft. Both Clary and Jace were ridiculously tense, though for completely different reasons. Alec had to admit he was looking forward to arriving at their destination at last, and not just because he wanted to leave this charged silence behind and finally get his explanations from Jace.

 

He tried not to smile when the front door swung open for them, but he definitely lost the fight when they reached Magnus' floor and he caught sight of the warlock leaning in the doorway, looking a bit rumpled and still in his silk pajamas and fluffy purple bathrobe. Somehow, the fact that Magnus hadn't bothered with his appearance for once felt more flattering than an elaborate outfit and lots of make-up would have been. And it wasn't like they hadn't all heard that he'd still been fast asleep half an hour ago.

 

"Alexander," he said with a soft smile that made Alec's heart beat that much faster, his eyes lighting up when their gazes met. "And that must be Clarissa." He offered her a polite smile.

 

"It's just Clary," Clary said, positively beaming at Magnus and elbowing Alec very subtly in the ribs while wrapping her fingers around his wrist and squeezing once. It was their own private code for 'you did well there', invented when they'd still been in kindergarten. Granted, back then it hadn't had the purpose of indicating that the guy you're crushing on was cute but who's to say secret languages couldn't adapt with age?

 

"Clary, then. Nice to meet you." He turned to Jace and Alec could have sworn the hall's temperature suddenly dropped ten degrees. "Jace Herondale."

 

"Magnus Bane," Jace said just as coldly, folding his arms in front of his chest and raising an eyebrow in challenge.

 

"At least you got them here in one piece." Magnus looked as if he'd rather forgo wearing primary colors for a year than admit that Jace had actually done a good job at something but would grudgingly do so to keep the peace. Alec felt a wave of gratitude well up in him when Jace's eyebrow lowered and his stance became a little less tense. They were far from being civil with each other but maybe they could refrain from jumping each other's throats until after Jace was done explaining why exactly he had been stalking Alec.

 

They shuffled into Magnus' living room in an awkward silence no one seemed inclined to break until they were seated. Magnus insisted on gluing himself to Alec's side, so now he was crammed onto the couch – royal blue and adorned with uninterpretable purple patterns this time – between a pajama-clad warlock and his best friend. They probably made a hilarious picture from where Jace was sitting in an armchair all by his statuesque lonesome, though he didn't look particularly amused. In fact, he was busy scowling at Magnus. Magnus, being the mature, several-centuries-old man he was, glared right back and even went so far as to stick his tongue out for a second. Alec gave him a playful slap on the arm for his effort. He'd meant to look stern and admonishing but he suspected he looked more like he was barely suppressing his amusement.

 

“Enough of that, you two. Now, Jace, care to explain why you so conveniently showed up in that alley just in time to save our lives? Or why you know so much about me and my family?” he asked eventually, only belatedly noticing that his hand had come to rest on Magnus' arm and never left. Alec quickly removed it and did his best to ignore Magnus and Clary's smug smirks and Jace's pinched lips and raised eyebrow.

 

“I so conveniently appeared right on time because I've been, in fact, following you,” Jace said bluntly, as if he hadn't just admitted to basically stalking Alec. “You're surprisingly terrible at keeping yourself alive for someone who's supposedly one of us.”

 

Magnus snorted at that. “Because the Nephilim are known for their cautious behavior and long life spans. There's a reason you're a dying breed and most of you not making it to your twenty-fifth could be considered one.”

 

“Yeah, well, excuse us for not sitting safely on our asses all day long doing nothing. Being the only thing standing between humanity and a constantly growing army of demons trying to invade our world tends to come with certain risks.” Jace had sat up, eyes flashing with fury, hands balled to fists at his sides and breathing hard.

 

For a moment, Magnus' fingers twitched on the armrest of the couch, a few weak sparks flickering at the tips before he took a deep breath and seemed to calm down again. “I never said what you do isn't honorable, though foolish. I just pointed out the hypocrisy of reproaching Alexander for his lack of survival skills in the face of demon attacks considering the mortality rate in your usually _highly trained_ little group.” His tone was level as he spoke and his face didn't betray any kind of emotion but Alec could feel the tension in Magnus' muscles from where he was sitting pressed into his side. That was all he needed to know that Magnus really felt anything but calm. “Besides, I reject the notion that I just sit around doing nothing all day. I'm a very hard-working, respected High Warlock.”

  
Jace rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering “hard-working, sure” under his breath rather audibly but thankfully let it drop.

 

“When you're done with your little feud for now, care to elaborate on _why_ you were following Alec around in the first place?” said Clary, her arms crossed over her chest and her best unimpressed look on Jace. For all that he'd looked tough and arrogant before Jace actually started squirming under her scrutiny. Alec was ready to bet that there was a very stern female authority figure somewhere in his life; he would know. This was another one of those looks Clary had, unfortunately, picked up from Maryse, after all.

 

“I first saw you the night you were attacked at Pandemonium,” Jace finally said, eyes locking with Alec's. “I was about to step in when Sparkles here showed up.” He gestured at Magnus in a way that had Alec wondering how anyone could possibly express so much disdain with just a flick of a wrist, without even altering his expression. “You seemed to be able to see his warlock's mark and aware that what had gone down wasn't just a pathetic backstreet rapist looking for a victim, so I waited until I saw you leave the club again and followed your taxi to your house. Up until then I'd never actually seen a mundane able to see the Shadow World, and I was curious. I did some research, kept an eye on you. Apparently, mundanes having the Sight aren't half as rare as you'd think with how everyone barely acknowledges their existence. I had to dig a bit to find out that that's mostly because pretty much all contact between Shadowhunters and Sighted mundanes stopped when we couldn't use them as servants any more.

“Anyway, I kept following you because there's not much to do around the Institute these days and I was still curious. And voila, you ran into Bane yet again and this time you seemed less inclined to blame it all on your imagination. Not too long after you were attacked by another demon and had to have your ass saved by Bane and his friend. I wanted to know what was going on so I waited at your house until you came back home and overheard your conversation with your mother. It's a fascinating case and you're having someone sending demons after you and it's my job to kill demons, protect the innocent, etc. ...” He shrugs.

 

“Aww,” Magnus cooed, smirking at Jace. “You got attached when you followed him around like a lost puppy.”

 

“I did not-” Jace huffed indignantly, waving his hands about to emphasize his point. “I'm a demon hunter, not a dog. And I didn't get attached, I'm fulfilling the task the Angel charged us with.”

 

“Sure.” Magnus was still grinning. “That's why you didn't report Maryse to your Institute, because you were merely doing your job.”

 

Jace immediately tensed up, pressing his lips together in a tense line. “I don't see why I should. She's not hurting anyone now and the Uprising was years ago. She's exiled herself, she's no longer one of the Nephilim. Why should we be the ones to judge her?”

 

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Technically, she was never stripped off her Marks. And as far as I'm aware, raising your sword against your own kind doesn't become statute-barred and should fall under the jurisdiction of the Nephilim, as so many things do.”

 

Alec elbowed him in the side. “Are you _trying_ to get my mom killed?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, eyes not leaving Jace's face. He didn't need to look over to know that Magnus was rolling his eyes, it was more than obvious in his tone.

 

“He's not going to hand her over. Or you, for that matter. Just look at him.” He gestured at Jace with an amount of disdain in his body language to match Jace's earlier display.

 

Jace was no longer sprawled in his seat, his posture looking a bit as if he wanted to curl up in the chair but had caught himself in the act and decided that that wasn't fit for a big, scary Shadowhunter and thus aborted the mission halfway through. He was biting his lip a little, clasping and unclasping his hands constantly. The rest of them waited patiently for him to say something or even really look at any of them. When Jace finally raised his gaze it immediately flicked from Magnus' self-satisfied smirk to Clary's slightly fond-looking smile and eventually landed on Alec's carefully neutral expression, where it stayed after briefly lingering on Clary.

 

“I'm not going to say anything, does it really matter why? Fact is, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who's been following Alec, and I'm by far the minor threat.”

 

At that they all tensed up again. “Do you have a clue who it could be?” Clary asked, her voice coming out high and thready. She cleared her throat and subtly grabbed for Alec's hand next to her thigh, not looking at him. Alec squeezed back reassuringly, keeping his eyes on Jace.

 

Jace shook his head. “No idea. I never even caught a glimpse of them, really. Whoever they are, they're good. Definitely better than the Devrak. They seem to have learned from their mistakes.”

 

“Are you sure? You just said you've never seen Alec's alleged second stalker,” Magnus said, a steely authority that took Alec by surprise suddenly seeping into his tone.

 

“They're good and they've mostly covered their traces, but they're not good enough to fool the best Shadowhunter his age,” Jace said with a proud, toothy grin. It was almost as endearing as it was unnervingly arrogant.

 

“Too bad he's not here to give us his opinion, then,” said Magnus, giving Jace a challenging look. This time, Jace didn't rise to the bait.

 

“Very funny, Bane. But there's definitely someone else going after Alec. And I think it's high time we do something about that.”

 

“And what would you propose we do?” Magnus leaned back into the couch cushions, looking deceivingly casual, and gave Jace an expectant look.

 

“I suggest I train him.”

 

For a moment, the room went dead silent.

 

Magnus was the first to recover his speech. “What?” The question sounded more like a growl. Together with his narrowed eyes it reminded Alec a lot of a pissed off cat. The last time a member of the feline species had looked at him like that he'd had the cat of one of Jocelyn's artist friends hanging off his hand by its – painfully long – claws.

 

“It makes sense!” Jace held up his hands as if to silence the expected protests prematurely. “And before you start hissing at me, let me explain. Even if Alec decides that he never wants to be a Shadowhunter, as long as someone is actively after him – and we don't know how long it might be before one of us gets that bastard – it would be best if he at least knew how to defend himself against demons. He's already shown an impressive ability to walk right into danger, unprompted and unassuming.”

 

“So that demon earlier wasn't a trap?” Alec said, brow furrowed. He didn't really think it worth it to react to the jibe at his defenselessness – it was sadly true, after all.

 

Jace shook his head. “No. That nest was a result of warlock incompetence.”

 

“What do you mean?” Clary at least looked as curious as Alec felt. Magnus just pulled a grimace, as if it caused him physical pain to be reminded of the fact that not all of his kind was as gifted.

 

“The guy lost control over the demon he summoned, it escaped and settled into a nice, dark alley. And because he didn't want anyone to know he wasn't even able to control a Ravener he didn't report to the Institute as he should have and the Ravener had all the time in the world to find something to procreate with. Thus we had a nest of them to deal with instead.”

 

“Let me guess: Rose?” Magnus asked, pulling another grimace. Jace nodded.

 

“Rose.”

 

“The only reason anyone even still hires that idiot are his ridiculous prices. No self-respecting warlock will give you quality work for such a low sum,” Magnus grumbled.

 

“Rose's dumping prices aside – the point I was trying to make is that just because Alec might not want to be involved with the Shadow World doesn't mean he'll be able to escape it completely, now that he knows. He should be prepared.”

 

Magnus looked like he was going to argue but Clary was faster. “Alec, what do you think?”

 

Alec sighed, running a hand through his hair and trying to ignore the expectant looks Magnus and Jace were giving him – he somehow doubted they were waiting for the same answer. Instead, he tried to focus on Clary.

 

“It sounds like a good idea to me. I'd have to tell Mom, though, see what she thinks. We don't really have room for that kind of thing so we'll have to find somewhere else to do it. She'll definitely notice if I keep disappearing all the time, she's been watching me like a hawk.”

 

“We don't really have much space to offer, either. And Mom would definitely have a few questions I'm sure none of us want to answer.” Clary shrugged.

 

Alec looked over at Jace, careful to avoid Magnus' eyes. He could practically feel them bore into the side of his head – could warlocks actually do that? Alec's hand twitched in his lap in a barely suppressed effort to cover his head just in case.

 

Jace bit his lip again, looking up at the ceiling while he thought it over. “We can't really use the Institute either, though it would be our best option. But we're trying to avoid them finding out about your mother and even though you personally never committed a crime against the Clave I'm pretty sure they wouldn't take it well if I brought one of the long lost Lightwood children in.”

 

Magnus huffed theatrically, waiting to say anything until all eyes were on him. “Although I don't really like that idea-” He glared first at Jace, who remained completely indifferent, then at Alec, who tried to vanish into the couch cushions. “if you're really set on doing this, you can do it here.”

 

Alec let out a groan that immediately had Magnus on edge. “Excuse me, is my loft not good enough for your purposes, Alexander?” His arms were crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed dangerously at Alec.

 

“No! No, no, no, that's not what I meant! It's just- Mom isn't exactly your biggest fan and the whole thing will probably sound dubious to her as it is, with a strange Shadowhunter boy offering to train me out of nowhere...” Alec backpedaled hurriedly, hands held up in surrender.

 

“I could offer to come with you,” Clary said, throwing a quick, careful look at Jace. “If none of you mind. We should bring Jace along to better convince her and in case she agrees but gets hung up on the training being here she'll know that you're under both Jace's watchful, Magnus-hating eyes and my friendly observation of your well-being.” She winked at Alec and he playfully pulled at one of the curls falling into her face.

 

“That might actually work. That is, if Jace is willing to come with us and try to convince her. And if he manages to be at least a little bit charming about it.” He gave Jace a skeptical look.

 

“Oh ye of little faith,” said Jace with a sigh. “I can pull off charming like nobody else.” He offered them a blinding smile. “And even if that shouldn't work for some unfathomable reason, I've got another trump. I grew up with the Penhallows, and if my research in Downworld actually brought forth reliable information they used to be close friends with the Lightwoods and fellow Circle members, so they don't really have room to judge. Maybe that'll make your mother more likely to trust me.”

 

“That could work.” Alec took a look at his watch. “That is, if she doesn't rip off our heads first,” he added quietly, swallowing hard as he showed the watch to Clary. She met his horrified look with one of her own. It was past 5 am by now.

 

“We're dead.”

 

“Maybe I can convince her that killing you now would be a waste of heroic rescuing.” Jace grinned at them, apparently delighted by their panic. “But I suggest we get going nevertheless.”

 

That was the first thing they could actually all agree on and so Magnus herded them out of his loft with a promise to let him know as soon as they got anything and a flirtatious wink for Alec. The door swung shut behind them and as Alec looked down the rickety stairs and breathed in the foul-smelling air he felt a little like he was on the way to his own execution. Maryse wouldn't like to hear any of what he'd have to tell her, _at all._ Clary grabbed his hand and held on tight, slowly pulling him toward the first step.

 

“It'll be bad, I'm not gonna lie,” she said as they descended, not looking at him. “I'll be there the whole time, right next to you, okay?” She half-turned and smiled up at him. Alec squeezed her hand, hard.

 

“Thank you.” His voice was a bit raspy where it caught in his throat and his eyes were a little less dry than usual but at least he wasn't going to break down sobbing in Magnus' staircase.

 

“For?” Clary's smile didn't waver and she didn't complain about Alec's too-tight grip.

 

“For not running,” he said with a weak shrug, smiling back with difficulty. That didn't make it less heartfelt though.

 

Clary snorted. “Please. You know me, the only running I'll be doing is running by your side, headfirst into danger.” She pulled him down the last few steps and the smile came a little easier. He had to give Jace some credit for very pointedly staying far enough ahead of them to be out of earshot.

 

They stumbled out of the hall and onto the street, tiredly making their way to the closest subway station as they sucked in the comparatively fresh air. They should probably stop by a coffee shop before they got to Alec's apartment – this conversation was better held fully awake, and they were all adrenaline-crashing a bit.

 

A broad line at the horizon was already announcing the sunrise when Alec looked up from the concrete beneath his feet – it shouldn't be a positive sign given his current situation but it made him tentatively feel like he could handle this somehow, someday. Not quite yet, but as if he had everything it would take him to get a grip on this eventually. It lured another small smile out of him as he tugged Clary toward the 24/7 Starbucks – conveniently right around the corner – Magnus had told him about (it apparently attracted a very noisy, very drunk afterparty crowd that had the unfortunate tendency to throw up in the vicinity of his front door every other week), whistling for Jace to follow them. He could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all Clalec, Jalec and Malec needs are satisfied for now ;) There's even a tiny dish of side Clace, yay! Stay tuned for Alexander Gideon Lightwood/Turner, Shadowhunter In Training Part I! Warnings for brilliant use of correct terminology ('Don't I get one of those glowy sword-things, too?'), apt handling of weapons that are not a bow ('Oh my god, someone take the Chairman out of here before he gets mauled!') and successful demonology lessons! ('It kind of looks like a winged rhino crossed with an octopus if you squint and tilt your head just so')


End file.
